


A Nest To Leave

by lowflyingfruit



Series: The Art of Bird Metaphor [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:56:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12940638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowflyingfruit/pseuds/lowflyingfruit
Summary: Ever since Bruce rescued Dick from the Court of Owls, Dick wanted to join Batman on the streets of Gotham. Bruce has always refused.But now Dick is older, he knows how not to kill, and now he has friends. He - and his friends - are going to learn to be superheroes no matter what Batman says.





	1. Inaugural

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel time!

They’d been discussing it for months, on and off. At first it had been a joke of Donna’s, but Dick couldn’t get it out of his mind once she’d said it. Why couldn’t they be a team? Why shouldn’t they? They all looked up to their mentors. Each other’s mentors too. They all thought they did the right thing. They all wanted to _help_. It was a good idea.

A few weeks later he brought it up again, and they didn’t laugh so hard. Instead his friends looked thoughtful.

“I don’t want to be a bad copy of Diana all the time,” Donna said. Beside her, Garth had an agreeing face on.

Dick felt like huddling down into a small target. He always felt small inside when he hurt his friends, even by accident. “I’ve killed too many people to ever be like Bruce,” he said, forcing himself to keep standing up straight. “I have to be myself. But I have to be better, too. Just like you can’t be Diana, and Garth can’t be Arthur. So we don’t copy them or try to join their team, we make our _own_ team.”

Two weeks later they talked about it again. And the next time they met as well. Each time they were a little less reluctant. Dick was winning them over, he knew. And now, at last -

“Then we’re agreed,” Kori said.

Donna smiled. “I’ll tell my sister.”

“And I my king,” said Garth.

“And I’ll tell Bruce,” Dick said. The thought of ‘telling’ still twisted in his guts, almost more than the idea of asking. But this was something that he wanted to do. He could hardly remember wanting anything more than he wanted this.

He could do it. He’d defied Bruce before. Over important things even, like going to find Jason by himself. That had worked out fine. Bruce had even agreed with him that it had worked out for the best, and the only thing he’d been a little angry about was Dick leaving his phone behind. So Dick could tell him that he and his friends wanted to form their own superhero team. He could. He _could_. 

His internal psych-up was interrupted by Kori asking, “I know you will not take on any part of Batman’s identity for your own, Dick, but have you chosen a name for yourself yet?” Dick smiled and nodded. He’d thought long and hard about it. Kori picked him up and whirled him around the room. “Wonderful! Will you share it with us?”

“Not yet,” Dick said. “I’d rather tell Bruce first.”

“Of course!” She smiled at him as she returned his feet to the ground. Dick liked to see her smile. “I look forward to hearing your choice for myself.”

Dick looked around the room. Donna and Garth were both smirking at them. “We should start training together,” he suggested. “If we show them we can behave like a team already…”

“An excellent idea,” Donna said. She was smiling too now. So was Garth.

They liked the idea, then. Dick smiled back. This was coming together. They could make this happen. “You said you had some Themysciran exercises to teach us?”

They were good exercises, too, he thought, as he headed back to the Manor a few hours later. It’d be nice if they had a space of their own, rather than constantly borrowing Justice League facilities. It was hard for them to spend as much time together as they might like. But they’d change that. Having the team would change that.

He’d just have to tell Bruce first.

“Ah, Master Dick,” Alfred said as Dick entered the kitchen. He was late, well past dinnertime, so Alfred was in the middle of his usual kitchen-cleaning. “Your meal is in the refrigerator. Masters Bruce and Jason are downstairs, when you’re finished.”

“Bruce is still here?” It was after dark, and the nights were getting shorter. It wasn’t often he left so late. Dick headed to the refrigerator for the promised meal. A big bowl of one of Alfred’s salads, the sort with meat and cheese in it as well as vegetables.

“I believe he wanted to iron out a shortcoming in one of Master Jason’s new techniques before leaving,” Alfred said. “Given Master Jason’s habit of practicing at night unsupervised.”

Dick hummed around a mouthful of meat. It didn’t taste only like blood today, which was nice. “He learns fast.”

“Chew your food before speaking, Master Dick.” The reproof was mild, and quickly followed by, “And yes, he does, rather. All the more reason he should learn things right the first time.”

“Do you think Bruce will ever let me spar with him?” Bruce hadn’t liked the idea when Dick suggested it. Dick understood. He’d learned so much since he’d come here, but he knew his first training still showed itself in a lot of his fighting. Even Bruce was hesitant to spar with him sometimes. Still, he wanted to be a part of Jason’s training, not just a bystander.

“Eventually, no doubt,” Alfred said. “In the meantime, perhaps some different training might be more appropriate. You have other skills other than just fighting.”

Dick finished eating, thanked Alfred, and went downstairs. Whatever other skills he had, fighting was still his best.

When he got there, Jason was stretching, and Bruce was nowhere to be seen. Dick sat down in front of Jason and started stretching too, to encourage him. Jason was good, but he didn’t understand warming down yet. His flexibility could use work too. “Show-off,” Dick’s little Robin grumbled.

“You have to do it _right_ ,” Dick said. “Lean further. Like this. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“It hurts already.”

“I don’t want you to get injured,” Dick corrected himself. “I’ll hold you in position if you need it.”

He didn’t think Jason would need it, and he wouldn’t touch Jason without permission. Nobody did and nobody should. That was the whole reason why Dick had sat down in front of him to demonstrate. Little Robin was competitive. He’d stretch properly if Dick just did it in front of him, to prove that he could do it too, without the help. He’d use that tactic until Jason stopped falling for it. Alfred had _said_ that he should think of something to do with Jason other than spar.

Sure enough, Jason pushed himself into a deeper stretch. It did hurt him, Dick could see that. But if he kept doing it that way, day after day, it would _stop_ hurting. “Good,” he said, once Jason had held the stretch for long enough. Then he switched stretches, and Jason did too. “Do you know where Bruce went tonight?”

“He’s looking for Black Mask’s arms sources,” Jason reported. His voice was a little strained from the effort he was putting into the stretch. “Another shipment came in from somewhere, cops don’t think through the docks this time, ‘cause Penguin’s got them at the moment.”

“Even Penguin misses things sometimes,” Dick said. “Maybe he’s even taking a cut. Does Bruce have any of his ledgers?”

“Nah, but he’s asking around to make sure he’s not flashing any cash.”

Dick could be out there helping. While Bruce asked about the Penguin’s spending, Dick could sneak into the Iceberg Lounge and take all of his ledgers. He’d looked through the building plans, he knew Bruce’s notes backwards and forwards. Or he could infiltrate Black Mask’s offices. He was _good_ at infiltrating places. Or he could just watch Bruce’s back, if Bruce would let him. He got hurt too often. Dick just wanted to help people.

He switched to a third stretch. Jason copied him with a sigh of relief. “Did Bruce give you any cases to help with?” Dick asked.

“Yeah, just a murder, nothing special. He showed me how to check the cameras. It’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”

Even after two months it was hard to not feel…something…at the words. A bad something he didn’t want to put the right name to. He’d had to fight for Bruce to teach him how to use the computers down here. All the things Dick had fought for, Bruce just gave Jason. It was fair, Dick knew. Jason had never tried to kill Bruce, when Talon had been Bruce’s enemy. It was fair that Bruce hesitated to teach Dick where he hadn’t hesitated with Jason. And it was good that Jason got the chance to learn.

It still made him sad and angry, and he wasn’t supposed to show it when he was either of those things, so he smiled instead. He was working on doing that instead of running away. “That’s good,” he said.

When Dick had finished supervising Jason’s stretching and Jason had gone to comb through recordings, he had his own workout to attend to. He’d trained with his friends, his _team_ , but there were always more skills to polish up, and things they couldn’t practice together. Like aerial work. 

While he did, he tried to rehearse how he’d tell Bruce. Should he _ask_? Or should he just tell him? Both would be difficult for Dick himself (not that he had ever dared to _tell_ his masters he was doing something against their wishes ahead of time), so the only difference was how Bruce would react. He didn’t want to defy Bruce outright if he could help it. He wanted - he wanted - he wasn’t sure _what_ he wanted from Bruce.

Aside from letting Dick start this team, anyway, and Dick was going to do it anyway, with or without approval. Dick knew that with the same hard certainty he’d felt when he’d realised that he had to leave the Court or give up everything that made him _him_. This was him too. He was meant to be out there. Meant to  _fight_. The Court might have made him a weapon, but Dick got to choose what he did with what he'd been made.

Ask or tell. Ask or tell. Maybe he should have asked Alfred for his advice, but he wanted Bruce to be the first to know, and if he'd asked Alfred everything would have come out in a matter of minutes.

The comms buzzed to life and Dick swung down to answer, since Jason was still absorbed in his work. “B,” Dick greeted him. No calling Bruce by his name on comms. “What do you need?”

“Anything you can find on Deborah and Aiden Reilly. Focus on connections to Sionis’ shelf companies.”

He typed in the names and skimmed the results. “Deborah Reilly, executive secretary to the director of Gotham Bay Area Shipping,” he reported. “Investigated for assisting in Sionis’ tax evasion five years ago. Nothing else. Aiden Reilly, suspended drivers’ licence and two public intoxication warnings, plumber at Fix-It Frank’s Repairs. Not one of Sionis’ companies.” Dick didn’t have to ask what Bruce wanted the details for. Those were the profiles of victims.

In reply, Bruce made a back-of-the-throat _thank you_ noise. “Are you all right?” he asked. “You sound…tense.”

“I’m fine,” Dick said.

“He’s being weird,” Jason called from his computer, without looking up. “Even for him. He smiled at me.”

“Is that - Robin?” He wouldn’t use Jason’s real name on comms either, of course.

Jason just groaned. “That’s a baby name,” he said.

“My mother called me Robin.”

“You’re not my mom!”

“Settle down,” Bruce said. “Was there anything either of you needed to tell me right now?”

Dick and Jason looked at each other. “No,” they said.

“Then stop arguing on this channel. We’ll talk when I get back. Batman out.”

The line clicked off. Jason glared at him, until Dick said, uncertainly, “I know I’m not your mother. I just - I thought -“ It just seemed _right_ to call Jason Robin. He didn’t mean anything _bad_ by it. Jason was still a lot of things that Dick used to be and wasn’t anymore, things that Dick’s mother had loved, and Dick could see why. But he also knew Jason well enough to know that ‘it seemed right’ wasn’t going to be good enough for him. His tongue seemed to catch in his teeth as he struggled to find the words for any of it.

That was when Alfred stepped in, coming down the stairs to the cave. “What Master Dick is trying to say, Master Jason, is that you are now part of his family.” 

Grateful for the save, Dick nodded. Jason stared for a few seconds, then said, “You’re the weirdest person I know, I swear to god, and that’s even when you’re wearing something halfway sane.”

Dick plucked at his sweater. It was a nice shade of purple. He liked it, and so, according to Bruce and Alfred, it was all right to wear at home. Maybe not in public, but at home.

Alfred said, “What Master Jason is trying to say, Master Richard, is that he doesn’t object to this classification.”

At those words, Jason’s face went a bit pink, and he turned back to his computer. He didn’t want to talk about it any more, Dick guessed. Seemingly satisfied with his work, Alfred nodded decisively, before heading over to work on repairing a Batsuit Bruce had got a few holes in last time he was in a firefight. Dick followed him, and Alfred handed him a small tool meant for unpicking seams. “Undo the lining of the sleeve here, if you would, Master Dick,” he said. “The plate above needs a patch.”

Dick set to work. His parents had taught him how to do this - he thought, anyway, since he’d known how to do it when he arrived in the manor. He couldn’t remember learning, but he must have, because Alfred hadn’t had to teach him much.

As he worked, he thought. He’d need a suit like this if he was going to be a superhero. He wondered if he could get Alfred to make one of them for him. Not with the Bat-things. Something else. Something that fit him better.

It would have to be black. Dick didn’t like the idea much, but dark colours were better for stealth. Black wasn’t as good as grey for that, but it was also better for intimidation. Maybe he could add a bit of brighter colour. Just a bit. Not yellow or gold though, since that would be far too close to Talon’s uniform. Blue, maybe? Yes. He liked blue, and it fit with what he had planned.

He was getting ahead of himself.

“ _Is_ there anything the matter, Master Dick?” Alfred asked, once Dick was working steadily.

“Not _wrong_ ,” Dick said. “I need to talk to Bruce.”

“Nothing I can help with then, I assume?”

Dick shook his head. “No.”

“Very well. Do let me know if the situation changes.”

They resumed work. Time crawled. Dick found his breathing changing pattern, a steady, set rhythm he used before speaking to his masters in the Court. When he realised, he stood up and headed to a treadmill - not his favourite way to run, not at all, but it did force him to change his breathing again. Then it was back to helping Alfred mend the Batsuit, because it was something useful to do. He wanted to get this done tonight, if he could. He wanted to tell Bruce the name he'd chosen for himself and how happy he was that they'd all agreed.

Eventually, Batman called it a night. Half an hour later, the car roared into the cave. This was it. Or it would be it. Dick waited patiently while Bruce spoke to Jason about his work that night, and while Bruce sent Jason off to his bed. And it was patience. Not stalling.

At last it was just Dick and Bruce in the cave. Alfred threw a glance over his shoulder at them before he left, but he left.

“Is something wrong?” Bruce asked. “You’re hovering.”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ ,” Dick said. “Not exactly.”

Bruce turned to him fully, setting aside his post-patrol writeup. “But there was something you wanted to say.”

Dick nodded. This was it. He could do this. “I met with Kori and Donna and Garth today,” he started.

“Did you have fun?”

“Yes,” Dick said, entirely honest. “We trained together for a few hours.”

It made Bruce smile. Or as close to it as he came when he was wearing the suit, anyway. Dick took that as a good sign. He knew Bruce liked that he had friends. Bruce had been the one to introduce him to Donna and Garth in the first place. A little more than a year after Dick had come to live with him, he’d arranged for it with Diana and Arthur. Neither Donna nor Garth had friends in the world of men, and Dick…if Dick had _ever_ had friends before them, he couldn’t remember it. He still couldn’t. He thought he must have, because he liked having other people around. It just felt so much _better_ , not being alone.

It had been hard at first, while he learned when to speak and what to say, but eventually they’d got to know each other. All through it Bruce had encouraged him to keep trying. Even when Dick had overreacted to Donna trying to hug him for the first time, even when Garth hadn’t spoken to him for two weeks over an unintended insult. Even when Dick had pointed out that _Bruce_ didn’t have many friends.

Kori had been different. Right from the start. He wasn't quite sure how, but he knew that it  _was_.

“I hope you’re being careful,” Bruce said. “Training with metas poses extra risks. Any slip-up can result in serious injury.”

“Kori and Donna are _both_ careful,” he said. “Nobody’s got worse than a bruise so far.”

“Accidents happen. Be ready for them when they do. They can hurt you without even trying.”

Dick shrugged. The Court had hurt him plenty - surface wounds, not meant to _really_ injure him - so that he was well and truly familiar with pain. The thought of being hurt didn’t bother him. As long as they could prevent actual injuries and deal with them if they happened, he didn’t see the problem. They had plans for that. Signals. They all knew what to do.

“But that wasn’t why you waited,” Bruce said. “What is it, Dick?”

He took a deep breath and said, “We’ve decided to start a superhero team of our own.”

Bruce blinked. Then he said, “Absolutely not.”


	2. Reason and Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce explains himself, and Dick plans accordingly.

_Absolutely not_. The words rung in his ears. Absolutely not.

It was easy enough to think that he wouldn’t let Bruce stop him, and harder to follow through. It was Bruce. Dick owed him. A lot. More than he knew how to express. _Everything_. 

But he wanted this.

So Dick steeled himself and said, “I’m not asking for permission. We’ve decided.”

“You will not be participating,” Bruce said. He wasn’t even looking at Dick anymore. “It’s too dangerous.”

If ‘absolutely not’ stung, ‘too dangerous’ cut. Inside, instincts from years of being Talon screamed that he wasn’t allowed to be upset, let alone _show_ that he was upset. But if he ran away now, it would prove he wasn’t able to do this yet. Dick made himself stand his ground, even though he knew Bruce would be able to see. “I’ve done dangerous things before,” he said. He couldn’t make himself smile like he’d been practicing. “I know how to fight. I can be part of a team.”

“We’ve had this discussion before,” Bruce said. “The answer was no then, and it’s no now.”

“This is different,” Dick insisted. “I’ve got a _team_. They’ll watch out for me and I’ll watch out for them.”

“An Amazon, an Atlantean, and an alien,” Bruce replied. “A team of metas who barely understand the human world. You have difficulty enough yourself. There is more to what I do, to what the Justice League does, than simply beating people unconscious.”

Another blow. “I know that,” Dick said. “You taught me how to be a detective too.” It had been hard, and he was still learning, but he knew how to do more than kill things.

“How are you going to deal with the police? Civilians? You had enough trouble with Jason. Who’s going to be in command? Where are you going to operate? From what base? With what money?”

The questions were delivered as an unrelenting barrage. Dick narrowed his eyes. “We just decided to form our team today,” he said, then took a risk. “Did you have all that worked out when you decided to form the Justice League with Clark and Diana?” Deliberate impertinence. Questioning someone above him. Dick quashed the urge to drop to his knees and apologise.

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“We were all adults,” he said. “We had been doing our jobs for years already. And we all knew about the world we were working in.” He glared. Dick couldn’t help it - he flinched.

Bruce sighed then, all visible anger melting away. “You’re not ready,” he said. “No.”

He walked away, leaving Dick standing by himself next to the computers. Alone and bewildered, Dick finally let himself flee upwards.

Looking down at the cave from his favourite vantage point, things were no clearer to him. There wasn’t a machine down there Dick didn’t know how to use. He knew Batman’s methods as well as his fighting style. What had he done wrong, for Bruce to not even give him a chance to prove himself? For _them_ to prove themselves?

Dick had to think on this. He had no intention of giving up.

 

—

 

Bruce looked back before heading upstairs, only to see that Dick had pulled one of his vanishing acts. Guilt pricked at him. That sort of behaviour was increasingly rare from Dick. Since Jason had come to live with them he’d only done it a handful of times. But still…

In any case, he doubted they could make any progress on the issue tonight. If Dick needed the space to come to terms with Bruce’s decision, Bruce would let him take that space.

Alfred was waiting upstairs with the usual post-patrol snack. Or, more accurately, hovering upstairs. Bruce didn’t have the slightest clue about most of the kitchen equipment, but it all looked perfectly clean and functional to him. Not in need of another late-night wipe-down at all. “Ah, Master Bruce,” he said, eyes flicking past Bruce for an instant, no doubt in hope of spotting Dick following him. “I trust Master Dick is well?”

He slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs, unaccountably even more exhausted than he usually was after patrol. “He wants to start his own team,” he said. “With his friends.”

“Indeed?”

“Indeed.” He was so tired. This was the last thing he wanted for Dick. He should be preparing to go to college, not preparing to become a vigilante. Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. In retrospect he’d set a poor example. But even so, this wasn’t what he wanted. Not at all. “I told him no.”

“Oh, Master Bruce.” There was a world of disapproval in Alfred’s tone. It wasn’t hard to figure out what he wanted to say and hadn’t.

“He’s not ready,” Bruce said. “He has no plan. He has trouble with anyone in authority over him and he’s still viciously territorial and possessive. He gets overwhelmed by people so easily. It’s a recipe for disaster in a team situation, or if he ever has to handle the police. None of his friends are from human societies. None of them have worked in a team before, or even on the streets before. They don’t know how vigilantism works. They don’t know how _cities_ work. It’s going to be a disaster. I couldn’t say yes. Someone would get hurt, maybe killed.”

Alfred remained silent. He knew Bruce - so he knew Bruce hadn’t told him the real reason yet. The horrible suspicion Bruce had been working for months to ascertain one way or another.

“The Court of Owls is regrouping.”

He hadn’t said it aloud until now. 

If Dick went out on the streets of Gotham, the streets of _anywhere_ , as a vigilante, the Court would know as soon as they saw him in action. A Talon’s training was distinctive. If they knew Dick was keeping himself sharp, if they knew he had maintained and even advanced his skills, they would want him back.

They would try to take him. They would try to complete the Talonisation process, activating the electrum compound in his blood, killing him, and reviving him with the full physiological qualities of a true Talon. Dick was old enough, now, for that. 

Bruce doubted Dick would be truly safe from the Court until he hit middle age, if then. He didn’t know how or if Talonisation could reverse or ameliorate the natural ageing process. 

Either way, it was better for Dick to live as a civilian, protected from the Court by the apparent disuse and atrophy of his training. Dick had many talents beyond fighting - he could be almost anything he cared to be. A dancer, a gymnast (he didn’t want to go back to the circus, Bruce knew). He had a truly excellent mind, particularly when it came to mathematics and the hard sciences. Though he had trouble with writing and with literature, he had an ear for languages. College was well within his grasp, if he wanted to attend. In time, if he learned how to handle and cope with people better, he could take over Wayne Enterprises after Bruce. So many things Dick could dedicate himself to and excel in, none of which would bring him to the Court’s attention like this would.

“Are you certain?” Alfred asked, quiet and serious.

“I never did round up all of them,” Bruce said. “Others - the ones who were found guilty for financial crimes instead of child trafficking and murder, some of the ones who pled guilty, their sentences are up, or they’re eligible for parole soon.”

An expression of deep disgust crossed Alfred’s face. “Already?”

“Expensive lawyers. They do their jobs.” He hated that for all he’d done, for all Gordon had done, they’d been unable to make the charges of murder and child trafficking stick as they should have. “If they’re not members of the Court themselves.”

They sat in silence for several minutes. “I’m not certain yet,” Bruce said at last. “But there’s been…activity.”

“You haven’t told Master Dick yet,” Alfred stated.

He hadn’t even put it in his notes, since he knew Dick read them. “No. I don’t want to worry him unduly.”

Another, shorter silence, and Alfred said, “You don’t think it may worry him more if you should turn out to be correct and he learns that you did not inform him?”

“I did, but you remember what he was like even just two years ago, and then…I look at him with Jason now and,” he ran through a few possible ends to that sentence in his head before deciding on “…I don’t want him to be afraid of those bastards for one second longer than he has to be.”

“The fears of parenthood,” Alfred agreed. “I quite understand, even if I do not necessarily feel your decision is wise. Nevertheless, I am not the parent in question here and I will not undermine you in this regard.”

“Or you could just tell me I’m being foolish.”

“I could. I doubt it would do me much good, were I to tell you any such thing.” He sighed. “I fully understand the desire to spare Master Dick as much pain as possible. I take it that you are opposed to Master Dick starting his own team on those grounds, rather than the ones you first listed, as I trust we are both confident that he can learn and overcome those issues.”

That was a rebuke if Bruce had ever heard one, and far more cutting than Alfred’s strong implications that his decision not to tell Dick about the potential revival of the Court was unwise. The idea that he didn’t have faith in Dick’s ability to continue recovering from the Court was an insult, even though he had no illusions that it would be difficult. Still and always difficult, even though he devoutly hoped the worst was behind them.

Notwithstanding, he wasn’t ready. Bruce firmly believed that. Dick got overwhelmed in personal situations. He could handle them for a little while - with remarkable grace - but anything unexpected rattled him. And when Dick was rattled, either he fled, or someone else ended up bleeding. The latter was far too likely to happen. Then, if his friends were ever in danger…

Bruce couldn’t bear it if Dick broke his own vow never to kill again, even (or especially) by accident. It would set him back years. At least.

“We are,” Bruce said.

It was well past time to start talking to Dick about his future, in any case.

 

—

 

After a night of thinking, Dick was only a little closer to a solution. That meant he needed help. Alfred was first, naturally. When he went for breakfast, though, Alfred said, “Sleep first, and then conversation. It will help.”

So even though he felt perfectly (well, not quite perfectly, but adequately) alert and he didn’t like sleeping at the best of times, not since the Court, he marched himself off to his bed for a nap. Sleep didn’t come. Instead, Dick stared up at the bright pictures he’d plastered the ceiling over his bed with. Landscapes, mostly. Pictures of cities and tall buildings. Pictures of flowers and hills, mountains and beaches. It usually helped, reminding him that he wasn’t trapped inside. This morning was one of the times it didn’t help. There was no open sky there, only bits of paper. Above that, a roof.

Those thoughts were a bad sign. He needed to get out of the room. Do something outside. Sleep or no sleep, Alfred’s orders or not.

Nothing for it. He headed out the window. The climb out was a familiar thing by now. When he’d first come here, Bruce had sometimes tried to stop him climbing on the buildings. Dick had persisted. It was the first time he’d got his own way about something in as long a time as he could remember.

He needed that now. He could hardly remember how it was that he’d won the dispute and hadn’t ruined everything with Bruce. It had been _years_ ago.

Dick’s feet hit the ground. Grass. When he looked up, there was real sky. Better already.

He needed to talk to someone. He hadn’t slept, so Alfred was out. He didn’t want to talk to Bruce right at the moment. Jason…no. Not Jason. Kori and Donna were a bit far away, and he couldn’t face going inside to get his cell phone. Not right now. So that left one person. “Clark,” he said. “Do you. Do you have time to talk?”

Just in case, he started walking away from the manor. Bruce would know anyway, but Dick didn’t have to make it obvious, or risk being overheard. If Clark could come by anyway. Which Dick hoped -

There was a _whoosh_ , and a slight crunching sound, and then Clark said, “I have about ten minutes right now. Coffee break. What’s on your mind?” He might have changed clothes so he could fly more easily, but to Dick he was Clark first. Superman was scary. Clark wasn’t.

Even knowing that Clark was using his coffee break to come see him, the words wouldn’t come. Just like the night before, with Jason. Clark, though, he just smiled and said, “Did you tell him your plans?”

“How’d you know?” Dick asked, tongue still feeling a bit thick.

“With what you asked me earlier? Ri- _Dick_ \- it’s still strange calling you that, but I’m thrilled you remembered, sorry for the mistake - it wasn’t that hard to figure out. Bruce might be the detective, but I’ve done my fair share of investigating over the years too.” He smiled, to show it wasn’t a rebuke. It was easy enough to read Clark, which Dick was always grateful for. “So. Did you tell him?”

Dick nodded. “He - he said no.” Absolutely not.

The smile vanished. “Oh,” Clark said. “That’s a real shame. Did he say why?”

“He said it was too dangerous. That we don’t understand enough.”

“We?”

“We decided to start as a team,” Dick said. “Me, Kori, Donna, and Garth.”

Clark _hmm_ ed thoughtfully. “That’s a good start. Do you think Bruce might have a point about that at least? None of you are most at home in human cities right now.”

He did. That was the thing. Or one of the things. “Yeah,” he said. “But we’re trying to learn. We _want_ to learn. None of us are going to stay inexperienced.”

“Well, I know you, Dick. I’m sure you won’t let a little inexperience stop you and your friends.”

“I don’t want to fight him,” Dick confessed, looking up at Superman. “He didn’t hesitate. He just said no. But I have to do this, Clark, I have to.”

Clark said, “I understand, a bit. We all know what it’s like to want to help other people. Even Bruce. If you don’t want to fight him on this, how about persuading him? If I know Bruce, and I do, he didn’t say no without reasons. Address those reasons specifically, and you’ve got a much better chance.”

Persuade him. Dick wasn’t sure he could. He’d been taught to fight, not to charm. All he had to go on there were faint, disjointed memories of his father’s smile, and the knowledge that a lot of people liked it when _he_ smiled. Somehow he didn’t think Bruce would be moved by that. But - but Bruce liked reason. “I see,” Dick said slowly, an idea taking shape. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Dick. Just one thing, before I go?”

Dick hesitated, then nodded. Of course. He owed Clark for the advice. He should listen.

“Just remember that he’s afraid for you. That’s the real reason why he’s saying no. You can’t persuade him not to worry about you, but you can persuade him that this is something you need to do and can do.”

Bruce was afraid for him? It was hard to believe. Bruce was hardly afraid of anything. At the same time, Clark was right about this sort of thing a lot. It wouldn’t be smart to ignore it. “Thank you,” he said again. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Another smile. “Let me know if Bruce keeps giving you trouble,” he said. “I believe in you.” With a little wave and another _whoosh_ , he was gone again, leaving Dick alone to think. More. He could do this, couldn’t he? Work out a solution? Something that meant he could go out to fight crime like he wanted, but wouldn’t leave Bruce _too_ scared what might happen to him. Something that helped show Bruce that his team wasn’t too inexperienced with normal people.

The first two he didn’t know about, but the last…Dick thought he might be able to manage the last after all.

 

—

 

In the end, Dick skipped talking to Alfred. He thought he had this sorted. Instead, he called his friends, _the team_ , to meet with him in the same place as last time. “So what did Bruce say?” Donna asked, the instant they were all together. 

“He said no,” Dick said. “Because we’re all too inexperienced and we don’t know how normal people work.”

Groans from Donna and Garth, protests from Kori. Dick shook his head and held up his hands. A peaceful gesture. He smiled, too. “So I talked to Clark, and he had some advice for us.” Some of it only he could handle, and it would take a bit longer. This, he needed the whole team for. “If he thinks the team isn’t good enough with regular people to work, we make the team bigger. We recruit someone else. Someone who knows…normal.”

Kori smiled, bright as the sun. “I approve of this idea,” she declared. “Another comrade would be more than welcome.”

By contrast, Donna seemed a bit more hesitant. “I don’t know,” she said. “I like having friends just as much as Kori does, but it matters to me that we find someone who understands _us_. Someone we can work with.”

He’d thought of this. Dick smiled too, wider and wider. “I checked the League databases,” he told them. “We’re not poaching members, but I remembered something I found when Bruce made me read everyone’s files. Barry Allen’s nephew - he copied the experiments Barry did, and ended up with the same powers. He wanted to work with Barry, but nobody would let him, because he was too young.”

He slid the file over to his friends, everything he’d found out in the last day. “He’s in college now. He still has powers, but he’s _normal_. We recruit Wallace West.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a bunch for your patience! Also your kind comments! Knowing that you're enjoying the story helps keep me going.


	3. College Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Social skills. Dick has them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains a few mentions of child abuse.

Easy enough to say, not quite so easy to do. None of them had ever really made friends with someone human normal before - Garth had a few Atlantean friends, Donna plenty of Amazonian friends, and Kori got sad when she was asked. Dick came closest, and even then, he’d hurt Jason and fought with him before he’d finally worked out how to get along with him. Even _then_ , he still fought with Jason a lot. 

He wasn’t sure Jason counted as a friend.

He’d learned a bit since then. “We shouldn’t overwhelm him,” Dick said. “We should do recon first. Then we’ll know how to approach him better.”

“His college has to be the best place,” Garth said after glancing through the file. “We can all go together.”

“I thought we _didn’t_ want to overwhelm him,” Donna said.

“One or two of us at first,” Dick agreed. “You two will make the actual pitch, when the time comes. Kori’s too noticeable. We’ll hang back and watch from somewhere else.” A good rooftop. Kori could fly them up. From there they could make a better call. Hopefully. It was a bit like how the Court had taught him to stake out a target, but Dick decided that he liked this much better. It wouldn’t end with a corpse but a new friend. “We’ll start by watching. I’ll take care of that.”

From there the plan took shape with relative swiftness. In a week’s time they’d put it into action. In the meantime, they all had other tasks to do. Dick included. He was quite pleased with how it had turned out.

If this went as planned, he’d be able to show Bruce that he didn’t need to worry. Dick had just about everything taken care of already. Or enough of it taken care of already, and more ideas about how to handle the rest.

 

—

 

Over dessert that night (fresh fruit from the manor’s trees, one of Dick’s favourite things in the whole world), Bruce said to him, “We need to talk.” Dick had been expecting something like this, so he nodded. If they were lucky, Bruce would have changed his mind about the team. Dick doubted it though. It was more likely that Bruce wanted to distract him.

Across the table, Jason eyed them both suspiciously. He still didn’t always trust that when Bruce said he wanted to talk, that meant he wanted to talk, rather than hurt. Dick had been there, even though the Court had been more careful in hurting him than Jason’s father had been in hurting Jason. Eventually Jason would see the truth of it. Faster, if Dick showed no fear of Bruce. He smiled, and Jason rolled his eyes.

“Before or after night work?” Dick asked. 

“Before, if you don’t mind. Now. Better to talk about this fresh.”

“All right.” He wondered what Bruce had planned. The important thing right now was to set a good example for little Robin. He wasn’t scared of Bruce, so he could show Jason that he shouldn’t be either.

Bruce sent Jason downstairs ahead of them, with instructions to warm up, and they faced each other over the table. “I haven’t changed my mind,” Bruce said. “But we haven’t talked about what you want to do with your life.”

Patient, he had to be patient. Clark said that Bruce was scared too. “I’ve told you,” he said, even though they were upstairs. “I want to start a team of my own.”

“No,” Bruce said. “And even if I did agree, you would still need a civilian cover. Sooner or later, we do need to make sure you have a future and an occupation. A life.” He took out a tablet and pushed it over to Dick, several web pages already loaded on its screen. “College, for instance, but there are any number of technical courses, performance courses…money is no object. I’ll pay for any and all of it. Whatever you want.”

Dick looked at the sites. Bright, well-organised, filled with pictures of smiling students on wide lawns and links to lists of degrees and subjects. “You - you think I could do this?” he asked. He’d never gone to a proper school before. Not before the Court. Not after.

“I’d recommend taking a course part-time, if you decide you want to attend,” Bruce said. “Something close to Gotham, not so…socially intense as the traditional experience. Leave a line of retreat open.”

“That’s not it.” Dick shook his head. “Are you sure I’m good enough for this?” He recognised some of the college names. Just tapping through to their entry requirements was intimidating. He was sure he didn’t have any of the things they were asking for. He’d only really had three years of education, four if he counted the year after he’d left the Court, when Bruce and Alfred had tutored him themselves.

“Of course.”

“I can barely make it through a novel.”

It hurt. Every time he sat down with a book - and he’d tried - he couldn’t relax. After a few pages fear started to swamp him, until he couldn’t concentrate on what was happening on the page, only on what was going on around him and who might be coming to find him _reading_. There was no reason for Talon to ever spend more than a few minutes reading at a time, purely functional documents, and never any reason for Talon to read fiction at all. Dick had forced himself to do many things against his training, including read novels, but the fear and discomfort had never gone away. And every time he had to put down a book, every time he struggled to do the written work his literacy tutor assigned him, it was painful and humiliating. He felt like a child. Not a clever child either.

Bruce’s face softened a little as he said, “That doesn’t reflect on your intelligence, but on how the Court trained you. A few weeks of study will prepare you for the standardised tests required, and you already have the knowledge and skills in mathematics and the sciences. Assuming you do not wish to apply for any degrees in literature, that aspect of your background can be explained. It’s not an insurmountable obstacle.”

He looked down at the pictures. Happy men and women, his age or a bit older. Gowns and caps and books and lawns. He’d never _dreamed_ \- “I’ll think about it,” Dick said. If Bruce was right about needing a civilian cover, maybe he could have both. More, since if he prepared a civilian cover, that would be another potential objection to his plan met.

It would be good to learn more things. He liked most of the sciences. He liked people, even if he found them difficult to manage. The idea that he could possibly have both that and the team he wanted so badly was overwhelming. Surely he couldn’t have so many wonderful things. Not after what he’d done as Talon.

“That’s all I ask,” Bruce said.

Sudden inspiration struck. This was perfect. “I’ll look at a few colleges myself,” Dick said. “In person.”

Bruce frowned, and said, “That’s a good idea, but do you want me or Alfred to come with you?”

“No. Not the first time. I want to see things on my own at first.”

A nod. “I can see the merits in that. Very well. Just make sure to let us know where you’re going and when.” He took the tablet back. “Talk the whole idea over with your tutors too, see what they think. No unreasonable breaking into college grounds, either. These places don’t need to be scoped out like a mission.”

It was so easy that Dick almost felt bad over the deception. Half-deception. He really did intend to look at colleges for himself. It was only that he also intended to move up his timetable for befriending Wallace West while he did. It wasn’t so hard to do.

But, he realised, he'd managed to persuade Bruce of something. This was progress, of a sort.

The next day, after his classes (where he didn’t quite feel ready to talk to his tutors about college yet), he headed down to the cave and the zeta beam. West wasn’t going to college in Gotham, after all. It was this or he got Kori to fly him. That would be much more fun, and all the more time spent with her, but not so good for stealth missions. Kori was wonderful, just not inconspicuous.

There was a noise from the shadows, and Dick whipped around to find Jason, trying to follow him. Jason glared at him. “Not fair,” he said. “I know I was being quiet. Wasn’t even breathing hard.”

“Your clothing was rustling a bit.”

“Freaking new stuff,” little Robin muttered. “Never had this problem with my old jeans.”

Dick sympathised. When he’d come here for the first time he’d hated the new, stiffer clothing Alfred had bought him too, also because it was loud. Even now he preferred leggings over jeans. “Wash them a few times,” he advised. “They’ll get softer quicker that way.”

That only made Robin glare up at him more. He didn’t like needing help. Then he changed the topic. “Where are you sneaking off to?”

“I’m not sneaking off anywhere,” Dick said.

“Yeah right. If you weren’t, you’d’ve told Alfred and he’d be here trying to give you some lunch to take with you. And I know you’re not visiting your friends because you’re wearing normal clothes.”

For whatever reason, instead of scared, the words made him oddly proud. It was strange. He’d done nothing to be proud of. There were only Jason’s good deductions. “I’m going to look at a college,” he said. “Really.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. Whether he did it because he was suspicious or because he thought it was intimidating, it was very cute. “Why sneak out then? I thought Bruce was all for college. He’s definitely got me doing enough schoolwork for it.” His face scrunched up further. “Are you worried about what he’ll do when he finds out you left?”

Dick shook his head. “No.” It wasn’t _quite_ a lie, and it was something Robin needed to learn. Dick needed to convince himself of it too, again and again, but it was easier when it was for Robin. “I’m just going to meet someone. I’m not doing anything bad. He’ll be a _bit_ angry, but he won’t do anything worse than make me stay in my room for a few hours. He’s not going to hit me.”

“Meeting someone?” Jason mused over it for a second, then seemed to decide that was an acceptable answer. “Do you mean sneak up on them and watch them from rooftops for a while?”

Well. Maybe a little.

It must have showed on his face, because Jason snorted. “Oh god, you are too. You freak. Is that the only way you know how to make friends? Because it’s not going to work.”

“I just wanted to scout around first,” Dick said, injured. Bruce said that too, one of the rare places where he and the Court taught the same thing. You had to _prepare_.

“Yeah, normal people call that stalking and most of ‘em don’t do it. Just walk up to this person and say hi. If they know you’re Bruce Wayne’s kid, or whatever it is you are, you’ll have a new friend right away.”

“What if I don’t want them to know?” Dick asked, but all he got was a roll of the eyes.

“Then don’t tell them that bit. Just say hello. The important bit is the one where you don’t follow them from the rooftops and learn all their habits before that point. Because that’s creepy.”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Dick said. Over the past few years Dick had been forced to attend a few of Bruce’s parties. (For a little while anyway, and Bruce always said he could leave whenever he felt like leaving, or keep an eye on the guests from wherever he liked as long as he stayed out of sight.) He didn’t _like_ how people treated Bruce there, and Bruce said it was because of a combination of his public persona and his money. He didn’t want people to treat him like that. “Thank you, Robin.”

Jason scowled and tried to punch him in the gut. Dick twisted aside with a laugh and dashed the rest of the way down the stairs, out of the way of retaliation. Jason hadn’t tried to hit him very hard at all. He was definitely coming around to the nickname.

 

—

 

This class was not the world’s most fascinating, and Wally found his attention wandering. Intro to Physics. He’d gone a bit past that in his own studies. Still, it was what he had to pass to get into the more advanced classes and get the piece of paper that proved he knew the material.

And still he just couldn’t keep his mind on the lecture. He sighed. He tried not to make it too obvious. Times like this he wanted to leave the lecture theatre and _run_.

He’d promised not to, though. Wally took that seriously. He’d promised just about everyone who knew about his powers that he wouldn’t use them recklessly. Or, basically, at all. His uncle had extracted that promise, the very first, with unusual gravity, in return for teaching Wally how to control those powers. Life as a speedster had some complications. Frequently the sort of complications that ended up with him learning physics in his spare time.

The professor droned on. Wally tried, he really did, but it was no good. This lesson, at least, was a write-off.

After class was lunch. Then more class. He enjoyed his mathematics classes more than his physics classes. It was a different spin on something that was, at heart, very similar. He was just thinking about the homework he’d been set when, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he spottted someone watching him.

Faster than a regular human could move, Wally whipped his head around and surveyed the quad. Nothing but the usual collection of students. Couple of frat boys stuffing themselves with pizza to soak up their hangovers, a few girls having coffee (including a _really_ cute girl in a Nirvana t-shirt he might strike up a conversation with later, ooh), a couple flirting over their meal, woman in a retail uniform on break reading, a guy awkwardly fending off three girls - actually, he looked more flustered than flattered. Wally could summon up the empathy for the poor man beset by admirers. His old classmate Mike had reacted like that a few times when he was flirted with, after being homeschooled for so long. Wally might have promised not to use his powers, but this was someone he didn’t need super speed to help.

“There you are, man,” he said, walking up to the little cluster. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

For an instant, Wally thought he’d made a horrible mistake, as the guy’s big blue eyes flew up to meet his gaze, surprisingly cold and suspicious. As soon as he’d detected the hostility, it was gone, so fast he thought he might have imagined it. The other guy said, “Sorry?”

“So you should be,” Wally replied with a smile. To the women, he said, “Ladies, I’m afraid I’m going to have to borrow him. We’ve got class. Can’t be skipping so early into the academic year.”

He indicated that the guy should follow him. Mystery Man smiled - no wonder the girls had decided to all have a chat with him at once - and eased himself out of the area far more gracefully than he’d been dealing with his admirers. “You read the chapter?” Wally asked, for the benefit of the eavesdroppers (no doubt hoping to learn which classes this guy took).

A beat, and his new friend said, “No, I didn’t.”

“That’s okay, you can borrow my notes.” He kept up that sort of chatter until they were out of the quad and safely away, when he said, “Sorry about that. You looked a bit out of your depth there. Hope you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” Mystery Man said slowly, and frowned. “I couldn’t go to that many parties tonight anyway. Not at the same time. What am I supposed to do with these phone numbers, anyway?”

Wally couldn’t help it. He laughed, and he tried to make it sound as good-natured as possible, because the guy seemed genuinely baffled. He had to be even more sheltered than Mike, because with looks like that, Wally would’ve expected him to be well and truly familiar with what to do when a girl gave out her phone number. Maybe he was from one of the small, conservative Christian schools in the area, then? “You could call one of them,” he said. “They were all pretty cute.”

A look of utter perplexity crossed the guy’s face. “You mean they wanted to go out with me? On a - date?” When Wally nodded, he made a _huh_ sound, way more confused than offended. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“At college?” Wally laughed again, and made to slap him on the back. He stopped when the guy flinched, and held out his hand to shake instead. “I think you’ll get used to it sooner or later. Don’t think I’ve introduced myself though. Wally West. Nice to meet you.”

The guy’s grip was not just strong, but hard with callouses. “Dick Grayson,” he said. “Nice to meet you too.”

“You mind if we head towards Nesbitt Hall?” Wally asked. “I really do have class in twenty minutes. Advanced linear algebra.”

“No.” Another strange pause later, Dick asked. “Do you mind if I come along too? I’m thinking of - taking that subject.”

“Want to get a hold on the horror that awaits you?”

“I like math.”

“You’d have to,” Wally said. “Not that I’m in a position to cast stones. I didn’t just think about taking the subject, I actually took it. Nah, it’s a good subject. Assuming you’re telling the truth about liking algebra, anyway. Come on then. I’ll protect you from any more packs of girls trying to get you to go to parties.”

Dick smiled at him, and Wally had to admit it was a hell of a smile. If he swung that way, he’d give Dick his number in a second too. On top of that it turned out Dick was good at math as well - not up to speed with the course, naturally, but _really_ good at math. With a new friend next to him helping with notes, that class didn’t drag on one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First chapter of the new year, and it was even in a timely fashion! Thanks everyone for your comments/bookmarks/kudos!


	4. Hard Yards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional labour is still labour, and relationships aren't built in a day.

Bruce had the sneaking suspicion that Dick was up to something.

He wasn’t slipping out on any vigilante work, Bruce knew. Not only were there no reports of a new team of young vigilantes operating anywhere (whether publicly or through the League’s sources of information), Dick wasn’t showing any injuries in sparring. But he was staying out both more often and later than his previous habits.

When he told Alfred, the butler all but laughed at him. “You can hardly tell Master Dick that you want him to enjoy the sort of adolescence and young adulthood that so many of his peers do and then turn around and forbid him from doing exactly that,” Alfred said, mustache twitching.

So Bruce hadn’t pried. Nor had he stopped Dick from going out so frequently. It took a lot of effort to resist that particular temptation.

It did, at least, give him plenty of time to investigate the Court of Owls and their potential resurgence without having to fear Dick finding out. Much. It wouldn’t do to get complacent. He did, however, risk committing his findings to his notes, banking on the fact that Dick didn’t have the hours in the day to study, train, spend time with Jason and Alfred, go on his mysterious errands, _and_ read all of Bruce’s notes.

He hadn’t counted on Jason.

“What’re you working on?” the newest resident of Wayne Manor asked him, not two days after Bruce had started the file. Thankfully, Dick was nowhere to be seen. Out somewhere. Again. “That a new case?”

The boy was insatiably curious, and took rejection as a sign that he might be harmed later. Bruce was going to have to be careful how he handled this. “Yes,” he said. “Technically.”

“What’s it about?”

“A criminal organisation potentially regrouping. I’m looking through legal proceedings at the moment.” He knew better than to say it’s nothing you’d be interested in, Jason; that would only make him all the more fiercely determined to take that interest.

“What sort of legal proceedings?”

“Parole board hearings,” Bruce said.

Jason scowled, and too late Bruce remembered that parole was a touchy subject with Jason. A few months away from his father (not to mention seeing that figure of childhood terror soundly beaten by Dick, arms broken in direct retaliation for what Willis had done to Jason, knocked out, and locked in another room like a misbehaving puppy) had greatly reduced his more fearful reactions. Now reminders of his father tended more towards the angry and resentful. “How do they even make those decisions anyway?” Jason demanded.

“Why don’t you tell me? There are books on criminal procedure over there. Tomorrow I can give you a list of resources pitched for readers without legal education.” With luck that would keep Jason productively occupied. It might even help him.

It did at least temporarily stop Jason from asking questions. Which was a relief.

Two former Owls had been released from prison in the past six months. Jim Gordon knew most of the details of their organisation (not all, because telling him more could have compromised Dick’s safety), and he’d be watching them. What he needed was to set up wiretaps and electronic intercepts. If they contacted anyone, Batman had to learn about it. And then find out if _they_ were Owls. And then, if they were, crush them. Whatever he could do to make sure that the organisation never reared its ugly head again.

Bruce Wayne might be more able to do some of this investigation than Batman was. He hated it when that happened. It was about time to hold a big party anyway. It would be Jason’s first. It would be tedious at best and excruciating at worst, but once he got the champagne flowing, he could loosen a lot of tongues.

Actually…if Jason wanted to be useful again, it might not be a bad idea to ask for his assistance. Another pair of ears could be important. He doubted Jason would say no to learning a new Batman-related skill. The way Jason applied himself to his self-defence lessons, sometimes he worried that Jason wanted to become a vigilante himself.

He couldn’t hold this event in Wayne Manor. He refused. Of all places to hold an information-gathering mission about the Court of Owls, he couldn’t hold it in Dick’s home. Not the place he’d promised Dick would be safe from the Court.

City ballroom it was, then. He alerted Alfred to begin the preparations. Making these parties happen took time and preparation, though the delay was grating. It would defeat the point if all anyone could talk about at said party was how terrible the event was; it was happy, smug, drunk people who gave away their secrets at this sort of affair.

Several days before the party, Dick came back late, smiling as broadly as Bruce had ever seen. He did that more often these days. Even if it was something he put on for others to make them feel better, it _worked_. Every day it seemed like Dick was a little more able to deal with people and the outside world, a little more resilient. The simple search for a college was doing him a world of good. Why hadn’t he proposed this months ago?

Probably because of Jason. Jason’s introduction to the household had rattled Dick badly at first. And then Bruce himself had been preoccupied with Jason’s own needs.

“How did it go today?” he asked. At first he’d been apprehensive about allowing Dick to survey colleges on his own, but slowly, his fears had been assuaged. To a point. Dick was definitely up to _something_.

“Good,” Dick said happily.

“Have you made any progress?”

Dick hesitated a little. “I’m looking at an accountancy course,” he said.

That was not what Bruce had anticipated. Not in the slightest. It wasn’t a bad thing at all, just somewhat more… _practical_ …than he might have thought Dick would choose. “A good degree,” he said. “Are you actually planning to be an accountant when you finish?”

“Maybe. I want the skills.” Expression drained from his face, leaving Bruce wondering once again whether the smiles were real or feigned. “The Court never let me handle money. It was part of how they made sure I stayed, wasn’t it? I don’t know enough. I don’t want to be trapped that way again.”

When he put it that way, it made a good deal of sense. Bruce couldn’t fault the logic. “I approve,” he said. “Let me know when you’ve made a final decision. We’ll work out the details then. Work on your application.” Call the school if he had to, but he doubted he’d have to. As far as the skills to complete an accountancy degree went, Dick had them. The only explanation that might be required was why he’d prefer to record an application video or speech, rather than write an essay.

“It won’t be long,” Dick promised. “I only want to check a few more places.” He smiled again and started to turn away.

Time for something difficult. Bruce cleared his throat, which stopped Dick. “I just wanted to say,” he started, then faltered. Why was this so hard? There was nothing for it, though. Every person, every resource he’d consulted about raising children said it was important to praise them when they’d done something well. “I just wanted to say, Dick, I’m proud of you.”

Difficult as saying this sort of thing was, suspicion that Dick was planning something regardless, it was worth it for Dick’s smile.

 

—

 

This was definitely working. Clark had been right. Take care of what Bruce _said_ he objected to, and he’d come around.

Dick owed Clark a lot for that advice.

The choice of college was coming down to two, both in Gotham. Neither were prestigious institutions, but Dick didn’t care about that. He probably wouldn’t do well in a place like that anyway. He wanted something more like Wally’s college. It was smaller. More relaxed. He liked the idea of smaller classes and fewer students.

He consulted his list of things to do. Bruce had said that they couldn’t start a team because they didn’t have a plan to deal with the police, they didn’t have a plan to deal with civilians, and they had neither a leader, nor a base, nor a budget. On top of none of them being familiar with the human world.

Dick was working on the budget. That was part of the reason he’d decided to learn some accountancy, though what he’d told Bruce had been part of the truth as well. Garth was working on finding them a base, focusing on redundant and barely-used Justice League facilities that they could perhaps persuade the League to allow them to borrow. Donna was working on a plan to deal with police, discussing the matter with Diana and Clark. Dick had his part there, too. Sometime soon he’d have to sneak out and ask Commissioner Gordon if he had any insights. Soon they’d have to choose a leader. Donna, Dick thought. Donna would be good.

Most of all, they all needed solid civilian identities. If they all had good civilian identities, Bruce could hardly say they didn’t know the civilian world.

Kori was having the most trouble, for obvious reasons. Dick wasn’t quite sure how to help her yet. He made a note in his diary - he had a diary now, to keep track of all the people he was supposed to talk to! - to call her the next day and see how she was going.

This was _extremely_ satisfying. He had to admit he was quite pleased with himself.

The next day was the next step in the larger plan to introduce Wally to the team.

“I’m still not happy you changed the plan,” Donna said quietly, as she and Dick made their way to where they’d agreed to meet Wally: the start of a hiking trail outside of town. And change to the plan or not, it was time to start introducing Wally to the others.

“Circumstances,” Dick said. “Besides, Jason told me our first plan wouldn’t work.” At least, if they’d got caught. Dick hadn’t planned on getting caught. And not many people had ever spotted him when he didn’t want to be seen, not since he was ten or so.

Donna rolled her eyes and smiled a bit at the same time. “Taking advice from a thirteen-year-old. This’ll work out well.”

“I think he might have had a point.” He’d been thinking hard about it, too. “We made the sort of mistake that Bruce was worried about, and planned for someone more like us. Someone who’s already a fighter.” Dick had learned quite a few things about Wallace West in the past three weeks, and foremost amongst them was that he was not remotely hardened. His life had been a good one. Comfortable. Completely alien to Dick.

“We don’t want someone who’s too soft,” Donna cautioned.

Dick shook his head. There was nobody close enough to hear, but he made sure his voice barely carried to the woman standing next to him. “He didn’t do those experiments because he was soft. He couldn’t have done them if he was soft. He’s not a fighter, but he’s like us in the important way too. He wants to help. He wants to _do_ things with his powers.”

It was easy enough to see if you knew to look. Wally kept using his powers when he thought nobody was looking and he wouldn’t get caught, quietly and subtly. He hadn’t put them aside and tried to forget about them. He found college frustrating. Not the content of the classes, which he did well in without exerting himself, but the routine, the carefully measured pace. Wally West wanted to go at his own speed. A faster one.

It wasn’t hard to tell that Wally was physically fit, but Dick wanted to do _something_ a bit more active with him before he really started with recruitment.

“Dick! Hey! Here!”

“Wally,” Dick greeted him. “This is Donna Troy.”

Donna smiled as they shook hands, though Wally laughed and said, “Your grip’s worse than Dick’s!”

“She nearly broke my arm when she met me,” Dick said. Which was true. Their first training session together hadn’t gone very well.

They got the food and water divided between them and set off the path together, a gentle incline. There weren’t many real hills in the area. Dick set the pace - by the end of the hike, he wanted to be sure Wally would keep up without complaint. There was no way he and Donna could out-hike a speedster, but they _could_ push him into drawing on his powers a bit over a long distance.

By the time they stopped for lunch, Donna and Wally were talking to each other instead of just to Dick. About basketball, which Dick had never seen a game of, let alone played. Donna had joined a local team for her civilian activity. They were also going fast enough for good day’s workout. For him and Donna, anyway.

“You guys don’t fool around with hiking,” Wally said. Dick was starting to feel some strain in his legs and a little shortness of breath and he knew Donna was too, but it looked like the lightest of warm-ups for Wally. Even more Dick was thinking that recruiting Wally was a good idea, not just for the fact he was brought up normal. “Yikes. Are you even having fun at this speed?”

“You can talk,” Donna huffed. “No, really, you can talk. You’re not even breathing hard.”

Dick hummed agreement. Showing weakness or tiredness was not allowed. Not under any circumstances. “There are some good trails near Gotham,” he said, when he’d mastered his breathing enough to talk himself. “With real hills.”

“We are not walking this fast up hills,” Donna said.

After that conversation, Wally breathed a bit harder. It was faked. Dick could tell, because Wally was _only_ breathing harder. There was nothing ragged or strained to it. When they got back, Wally said, “That was fun.”

“We do something like this every weekend,” Dick said. “Want to come along again?”

“Sure,” Wally said.

After he left, back to his normal home and normal life, Donna said, “I like him.”

“I do too,” Dick said. “I told you he’s not soft.”

Donna groaned in mock despair. “If you walk us up one of those Gotham hell-trails at that speed next week to prove it more and better, I am going to kill you, Dick. I hate endurance training. I vote we teach you basketball and kick your butt from one end of the court to the other.” Then she smiled. “I think you should take him marathon swimming to meet Garth.”

 

—

 

The next day, when he went to meet Dick (and that was starting to sound more like a friend’s name and less like pun material), the other man was smiling again. “You look happy,” Wally said. “You’re not sore from all that hiking?” Dick and his friend Donna had gone fast. If Wally hadn’t been a speedster they’d’ve left him in the dust.

“The hike’s no big deal. But I am happy,” Dick said. The smile vanished and he got his strangely intense thinking face on, and said, “I was arguing with my…guardian. We disagreed on something.”

“Your guardian?” Dick hadn’t said anything about his family so far. Wally had to admit he was curious. Mostly they talked about classwork. Having a friend who could talk science with him was a change. The good sort of change.

“My parents are dead. So I have a guardian.” 

It was said totally matter-of-fact, but _damn_ if that didn’t make him feel like shit. “I’m sorry,” Wally said, abashed. “That’s awful. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.”

“It was a long time ago. I don’t remember them well.”

Okay, wow, Wally had sure put his foot in it here. Change of topic! Or back to the original topic, anyway. “But your guardian’s nice, at least?”

Smile on, like flicking on a light. Man, that could be weird. It didn’t look fake or anything, the opposite really, just super abrupt. If he was happy, you knew right away. If he was thinking, you knew right away. Dick didn’t seem to _do_ sad or angry. “I like Bruce,” Dick said. “He’s very kind.”

“That’s the important thing, I guess,” Wally agreed. What did he know about the foster system? Not much. “Anyway. You were arguing with your guardian?”

Dick nodded. “Yes. But I think I’m about ready to talk to him about this. This time he might let me have my way.”

He said no more about it. Well, it wasn’t Wally’s business anyway. Mostly he was looking forward to a good science discussion - and, as Dick relayed, Donna wanted Wally’s help to teach Dick basketball next week. That was an invite Wally was glad to accept.

Wally dropped home that night for a family dinner only to find Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry there too. “It’s been a while,” Iris said, over a meal large enough for two speedsters. “How’s college treating you? Made any friends?”

“A few,” Wally said. He told them about the guys in the dorms, and Tracy and Shawna who he worked with in lab  classes. He finished with Dick and Donna. “I went hiking with them yesterday, and man, you’d’ve thought _they_ were the speedsters.”

His mother and Iris laughed, but Barry frowned. “Dick and Donna? Not Richard Grayson and Donna Troy?”

“Well, yeah,” Wally said, confused. “How did you -“

“Just curious,” Barry said. “It’s nothing bad. I know Richard’s dad a bit. I thought they lived in Gotham.”

“Must be a different guy,” Wally said. “Dick’s been in my math classes almost every day, except the advanced one he doesn’t have the credits for yet.”

“Maybe,” Barry said.

So that was weird. Curiosity aroused, Wally googled _Dick Grayson_. To his surprise, he got quite a few hits. A lot from gossip sites, strangely enough. In Gotham. Something about Bruce Wayne and a kid he’d fostered, most of the articles complaining that the lawyers were clamping down on people following the poor kid and trying to take pictures of him. It couldn’t possibly be the same Dick Wally knew -

\- except, he remembered, Dick said he didn’t have parents, but a guardian. Whose name was Bruce.

Wally went through more articles. Older ones. Older again. He saw the word _murder_ and clicked a link, to an old news page with the headline _SHOCKING MURDER AT GOTHAM CIRCUS_. The article described how two aerialists had fallen to their deaths when their lines had been weakened with acid, and their son had vanished in the aftermath. There was a picture of the family, meant to promote their act at the circus.

The kid was definitely Dick. Younger, yeah, but definitely him. Which meant that he was the same Richard Grayson fostered by Bruce Wayne, which meant that he didn’t live in town but in Gotham City. Hundreds of miles away. But there he was every day in Wally’s math class, like he wasn’t basically a billionare’s kid.

It didn’t make _sense_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your comments, bookmarks, and kudos!


	5. In The Background

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wally follows up. Dick's night goes wrong.

“You said you know Dick’s dad,” Wally said. He’d caught up with his uncle outside his and Aunt Iris’ place, since they’d actually driven over. “How? They live in Gotham City.”

Oh, and Dick’s guardian was Bruce freaking Wayne. Minor detail there. How did Uncle Barry know Bruce Wayne? Wally had a few suspicions.

Barry sighed. “So it is the same Richard Grayson. Aren’t many of them who hang out with young women named Donna Troy. Come on, we can’t talk about this outside. Sorry, Iris, gotta get this sorted out.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” Iris replied. “I”ll put coffee on.”

Oh yeah. Wally had definitely worked out something he probably wasn’t meant to.

They headed into the cluttered Allen household and Wally braced himself for more big secrets. Sure enough, Barry started with, “So you’ve clearly worked out that I know Bruce Wayne through the Justice League.”

“Yeah.” Made sense. Made dollars, actually. Billions of them. “He’s a backer, right?”

Barry snorted. “You could say that. Seriously, this is important. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Pinky swear,” Wally said. “So. Why were you all surprised that Dick came to my college?” Wally was still kind of freaked out, and yeah, a bit upset that Dick had lied, but that didn’t explain Uncle Barry’s reaction.

Barry sighed heavily. “Richard -”

“Dick.”

“- Dick. How much do you know about his background?”

“He told me his parents were dead,” Wally said. “I saw the news articles that said they were murdered and Dick was kidnapped. Then he ended up with Mr Wayne. That’s it.”

“There’s quite a bit missing from that account,” Barry said. “I don’t know much about the people who kidnapped him myself, Batman’s pretty close-mouthed, but they were seriously bad news. Not many people have come as close to killing Batman as your friend did. Definitely nobody's come that close to killing Batman before hitting puberty.”

Kill? Wally shook his head. “No way. He can’t even get rid of people coming on too strong. Have you met him?” Dick was a bit weird, yes, okay, but Wally couldn’t see it. He just couldn’t.

“I have,” Barry said, to Wally’s surprise. “A few years ago. Bruce was asking around and trying to arrange for him to meet people more his own age.” He smiled faintly. “That’s how he met Donna.”

Oh, right. Duh. “And how’s she connected to the League?”

“Her older sister,” Barry said. “Wonder Woman.”

“Holy crap. No wonder she almost broke my hand.”

“Yeah, that’s actually happened to me a few times. Good thing for speedster healing. Anyway, I have met Dick, a few years ago. He wasn’t in a good place. Tended to try and stab people when they startled him, things like that. It’s why I told Bruce I didn’t like the idea of you meeting.”

“He’s not a bad guy!” Wally flared. Seriously, this was so hard to believe, even though he trusted his uncle and had corroborating evidence on his phone.

“I never said that,” Barry said, very gently. “I don’t believe he’s a bad kid either. But at the time, at least, he was traumatised and very dangerous to other people. That sort of trauma doesn’t go away in a few years. Even if it’s good to hear he’s got past stabbing people to get them away from him.”

It hardly sounded possible. Yes, his uncle was the Flash, respected member of the Justice League, no reason to lie to him at all here, and yes, he’d only known Dick for a few weeks…but still. That sounded so not-Dick. Stabbing people, Dick, two concepts that didn’t go well together.

His doubt must have shown, because Barry said, still in that same gentle voice, “You could try asking him.”

He snorted. “What, if he’s…I don’t know what he is that you didn’t want me to meet. About the worst thing I see here is that he lied by omission.” And while the knowledge that Dick was actually a Gotham billionaire’s kid was startling, well, the way he got mobbed in the quad from time to time just waiting for Wally, he could understand why Dick might want to keep it quiet that he was rich as well as good-looking.

This time there was a bit more sharpness in Barry’s voice when he said, “You know that’s not true. Dick didn’t come all the way out here on a whim. _Do_ you know why he arranged to meet you?”

Wally shook his head. “I think he wanted to make friends. That’s all. We’ve been going to math class, lunch in the quad from time to time, hiking. That’s it.”

His uncle seemed to weigh that up. “Well, dropping by like this _would_ be how Batman taught him to socialise,” he said at last. “Actually, if Batman taught him how to make friends, I’m surprised he didn’t stalk you for a week or two first. Which you might not know about if you weren’t looking out for it, I guess.”

“Is that how he made friends with you?” Wally asked, curious. His uncle tried not to tell him much about Justice League stuff, ever since he said a firm no to Wally joining in.

“That implies he considers me a friend. But yes, he did keep me under surveillance for a while before introducing himself. Wouldn’t be surprised if there were still a few bugs here and there.”

“Oh. Wow. Batman doesn’t sound like much fun.”

Barry laughed. “He’s many things, but fun is not one of them.”

At that point, Iris brought in the coffee. They sat together in silence for a short while drinking, but Wally never could stand silence for that long. “So what now?” he asked, when it got unbearable. “Do I dump Dick from my friends list?”

“I’m not telling you not to be friends with him! You’re a grown man, you can judge character for yourself, be friends with whoever you want. I’m just asking you to be careful, both with the Justice League aspect and with your own safety. I can tell you from personal experience that your friend is quick with the knives. Whatever you do, do not run up to him too fast for him to perceive and stop within arm’s length.”

Sometimes it was strange being an adult. Not all that long ago, it would have been _oh, no, Wally, he’s far too dangerous_. In fact, if what Barry said was true, it had been _exactly_ that. He turned the thought over in his mind. Dick had been judged too dangerous for Wally to spend time with. _Weird_. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

Barry frowned. “I need to tell the League you worked out the Wayne connection and how. We take that seriously, Wally. We literally cannot afford to lose that money. On top of that, I’m going to be asking how Dick found _you_. Batman keeping tabs on me is one thing, but I’m not happy for him to keep you under surveillance. Together, that means you probably can expect a visit from Batman in the next week or so. I’ll give you a heads up if I hear about it ahead of time, but most likely you only learn he’s there when he’s gone and stolen your socks to make a point.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” Wally finished his coffee and stood. “Thanks for being honest, Uncle Barry.”

“Don’t thank me for that,” Barry replied, uncharacteristically serious. “I haven’t been. That’s not an invitation to poke into it, by the way, that’s stuff I swore I wouldn’t reveal to anyone unless I absolutely had to, and I’d appreciate it if you let it be.”

It sucked to be lied to, but Wally got it. Fate of the universe and all, didn't stack up next to his hurt feelings. “Seems fair. Thanks for telling me what you could, then.”

What he couldn’t get out of his mind, though, was that Dick was dangerous. Barry had recommended asking him. He’d do that, then. If Dick knew about the Justice League, knew enough that his guardian was arranging playdates through them ( _what_ ), if he had _found_ Wally through the Justice League, then he knew Wally was a speedster. He wouldn’t, or shouldn’t, be surprised if Wally just showed up in _his_ town for once.

It wasn’t even that late. He could go tonight. He took off his shoes (they couldn’t stand up to a run this length, where his legs would heal from the stress just fine), and headed off to Gotham City.

 

—

 

This time, Jason got a lot closer to sneaking up on him. “Nearly,” Dick said, turning to find his Robin in the shadows of the stairwell. “Bruce has been teaching you!”

“How can you tell?” Jason demanded.

“Pattern of breathing. The distance you stopped at. You stopped putting so much weight on your right foot. Little things.” He laughed at Jason’s irritated face. “I have more practice than you.”

“Whatever,” Jason grumbled. “How come you aren’t getting ready for the stupid party?”

Now Dick was the one to frown. “There’s a party?”

“Yeah. Bruce has only been planning it for weeks. It’s tonight. How come you’re not getting ready?”

“I must have been out.” That was no good. He’d have to make more time for Bruce, Alfred and Jason if he was missing things like this. “Give me a few minutes. I’ll come too.”

Jason shuffled his feet. “You don’t have to. Bruce said you hate this sort of thing. I just wanted to know if you could tie this stupid tie.”

He thought he had this worked out now. Jason wanted to know how to tie his bow tie, yes. Jason also wanted to know if Dick would be coming to the party tonight and he was too embarrassed to ask straight out. “I can,” Dick said. “Don’t worry. I can show you the way out through the roof, too.”

“I’m not worried!” Jason snapped, then added, “The roof thing sounds okay.”

“Great!” Dick beamed. “I’ll go get ready!”

He had suitable clothes ready. No matter how badly Dick tore his tuxedo climbing around (sometimes he _really_ needed to use the rooftop escape route), Alfred always made sure it was repaired and dry-cleaned and back in his wardrobe within a week. Sometimes it made Dick feel bad, like he should be able to cope with the parties without ruining his clothes. Now it was convenient.

This would also show Bruce that he could handle the parties. Dick was _improving_.

Showing Jason how to tie the bow tie didn’t take long. “It’s tight,” Jason complained.

“I know. After a few hours you can get away with undoing it.”

“Does it have to be a few hours? Why does anyone care in the first place?”

They were going over the finer points of escaping the ballroom when Bruce arrived, also dressed up, and then stopped in his tracks. “Dick? Why are you -?”

“I’m going to keep Jason company,” Dick said cheerfully. “I’m all ready to go!”

“So I see,” Bruce said.

He didn’t _look_ happy that Dick was coming along. That alone was enough to dim some of Dick’s enthusiasm. He’d thought Bruce would be pleased - at his socialising progress at least, if not his company. “What’s the matter?” he asked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no,” Bruce said. “It’s nothing you did.”

“Is it something else, then? Is there something I can do to help?”

“Just keep your ears out,” Bruce instructed him. “Nothing out of the usual. If something seems amiss, let me know.”

“All right,” Dick agreed. “And Jason?”

Bruce smiled, and Jason himself huffed in annoyance. “Jason will be doing the same. You both have my permission to make a quiet escape if you need to.”

The party was a big one, Dick saw as they arrived. Big and fancy, even by Bruce’s standards. He was glad he’d come along with Jason. It was _very_ big for a first party. Bruce usually started smaller. This was strange. Still, Jason appeared to be doing fine. He hadn’t broken anyone’s wrist for touching him, like happened at Dick’s first party. He smiled at Jason. He smiled at a few other people too, and then, as had been happening since he decided to cover his unease rather than run away, he found himself surrounded. Mostly by women. If Bruce didn’t think that running away was a bad way to handle most of these problems, Dick would go right back to that tactic. Smiling at people was almost more trouble than it was worth.

Lucky for him, he’d learned a bit about how to handle these situations in the past few weeks. Wally was a good friend.

He could feel eyes on him. Bruce’s, as often as not, keeping a careful watch on him. He did that when Dick came to parties. Bruce didn’t seem to be watching Jason so closely. Fair enough. Jason wouldn’t break anyone’s wrist. Not unless they really deserved it.

After a while, Dick headed to the dance floor. Dancing was easier than talking. More fun as well. He wished Kori was here. He would have liked to dance with her. Instead, he danced with one woman he didn't know, then another, and then a third. They were nice. He was pretty sure his second partner had laughed at him the year before when he’d said something wrong at this sort of party.

The fourth woman he danced with, he recognised. Not her face. The way she moved, the slight unevenness in her gait. It was from an old leg injury. Dick had seen her before. He couldn’t quite place her.

“Aren’t you a nice young man?” she said. She was smiling too, but her eyes were hard and cold. “I’ve been watching you out here for a while.”

He recognised her voice. He recognised her from the _Court_.

Dick dropped her hands like they were burning hot, and fled.

 

—

 

Wally had never been to Gotham City before. His first impression? It was kind of a hole. He put his shoes on within a minute of the city limits, wear and tear be damned.

Maybe it was just where he was running through, but the place smelled like they had some issues getting all the trash collected. Unpleasantly damp, too, but that was his bias speaking. He liked the sun, and the night’s drizzle here was slowly soaking through his clothes. Now, where in Gotham to go?

Being lost in a city wasn’t a big deal for Wally, since he could cover a lot of ground. If he was careful about his speed, he could zip through the streets without alerting anyone and see what he could find in the Wayne department. 

After twenty minutes of methodically combing the streets of central Gotham, his impression that the place was kind of a hole hadn’t changed. There were some really ritzy places, like the one Wally was out the front of now, examining a sign for a Wayne Foundation party that night. Since Wally didn’t know where Wayne Manor was yet, he might as well check it out. Maybe Dick would even be there, hard as it was to imagine him at a party like this.

Next step, getting in. This was a black tie event. Wally was not in black tie clothes. Nor did he know a whole lot about gatecrashing. There was walking into a frat party uninvited, and then there was…well, this. He’d probably have more luck with the back entrance.

He sped around the building, keeping an ear out for Dick if possible, or any mention of him. Even though he was maintaining a decent speed, fast enough that most people wouldn’t realise he was anything more than a stray breeze (unless he ran into them, of course), he felt _super_ conspicuous. There was no way he could use this trick inside. That was just asking to go splat into either someone fancy or a wall, and Wally didn’t know which was worse.

Nothing for it. If he wanted in, he had to make a dash for it. He’d work out what to do from there, see what the situation inside was like. Now that he was here, he couldn’t leave without seeing if this really _was_ Dick’s scene - and, more importantly, asking him if the rest of what Barry said was true as well.

He’d still probably stick out like a sore thumb in his wet running gear.

Wally waited for a waiter to open the service door for a smoke, then made his move. A sprint to the door, and he was through before the door shut. Perfect. Now came the hard part. If in doubt, go for the classics, right?

It didn’t take long to find the staff locker room. Where there was a locker room, there were spare uniforms. Uncle Barry had this awesome trick where he could use his powers to phase through solid objects, but he’d refused to teach Wally. Instead, Wally was stuck checking each locker until he found one that was open, and then stealing a spare shirt and pants. Nothing he could do about the shoes, but it did mean he could at least walk around the building.

Most of the people back here were staff. He passed a couple who’d snuck into staff areas to get, um, intimate. Wally left them alone. A few more partygoers were drunk and lost; Wally passed one man who was higher than anyone he’d ever seen. It didn’t take long to pick up that Bruce Wayne was present, kids in tow.

“He _did_ pick that boy off the streets,” a woman sniffed, when her friend asked how Wayne could bring his children to a party like this. “I expect he’s seen worse than a bit of champagne.”

Wait, _children_? Wayne had more than one? Dick hadn’t mentioned any siblings. Or the Wayne thing, so on second thought Wally wasn’t sure why he expected to know that Dick had siblings. Was Dick the one Wayne had ‘picked off the streets’? The women he was listening to didn’t say any more about that.

He kept cruising.

“Do you know where he went?” a quiet, serious male voice asked somewhere up ahead of him.

“No.” That was a boy’s voice. “I told you. The lady said something to him, I didn’t hear what, and he bolted. I lost him in the stupid crowd. Can I go out and look for him now?”

“Not by yourself,” the man replied. “I’ll call Alfred. He’ll find Dick. Which exit was he heading towards?”

Jackpot. Wally got closer, as quietly as he could, hoping to hear more. That was Bruce Wayne, he thought. He’d seen the man’s picture tonight already, though he’d been smiling in those pictures. The boy had black hair as well. He didn’t look comfortable in his penguin suit. Wally couldn’t blame him.

Wayne looked away from the kid he was talking to and fixed Wally with a surprisingly intense stare, as he stepped in front of the boy. His eyes flickered down to Wally’s shoes. His _running_ shoes. “What are you doing here?” Wayne asked.

“Serving drinks?”

Not his best lie.

“I’ll ask once more,” Wayne said. “This is not a good time to lie to me. What are you doing here, Mr West?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last story, a commenter asked me if Bruce had gone around the Justice League trying to make playdates for Dick. I was already planning this story and now I can say: yes. That is exactly what happened in this AU.
> 
> Good news - I've got most of the next chapter written as well, so the wait shouldn't be long at all. Maybe another week, which will give me time to get a good start on the chapter after that. Thanks everyone for reading and special thanks for comments/kudos/bookmarks!


	6. Run Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick tries to cope, while others try to find him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for violent ideation.

The first Bruce knew something had gone wrong was when Jason barrelled up to his side. “I gotta talk to you,” he said, not a care paid to the fact he was clearly interrupting.

Bruce looked at the group he was talking to. Mostly businesspeople. Wayne Enterprises people. Nothing key to the purposes of the night. “Give me a second,” he said.

“It’s _important_ ,” Jason insisted.

Jason wasn’t one to come running for help at the slightest obstacle. Something he and Dick had in common. “All right.” He smiled at his temporary companions. “Excuse me. I have it on a reliable source that this is important.”

He led Jason out of the ballroom and into the somewhat quieter halls mostly for staff use. At this time of night most of them were circulating or in the kitchen. “All right,” he said, once they were alone. “What’s the matter?”

“Dick’s gone,” Jason said breathlessly.

“He does that at this sort of event a lot,” Bruce said, though fear was starting to prickle down his spine. He’d been managing very well up to this point. Bruce had been impressed, even, since he knew this many people in such a small space put Dick on edge. On top of that, he’d noticed how several people were expressing more… _romantic_ …overtures to him. To be expected. In the last few months Dick made impressive progress from the off-puttingly intense boy he’d been last this crowd had seen him, into a more confident young man. The last Bruce had seen of Dick, he’d been defusing the situation by dancing. Smart - less talking, the physical activity would do him good, and he was a _highly_ competent dancer.

He did wonder where and how Dick had learned to handle advances of that nature. Bruce hadn’t advised him on this. Either Alfred or Donna Troy. Perhaps even Koriand’r, though from what Bruce suspected of her feelings, she would rather dance with Dick herself than allow others to do so.

He hoped this departure was just Dick getting overwhelmed and running out. Taking him to this party had never been in Bruce’s plans. There were no fewer than five potential Owls here. Maybe more that Bruce didn’t know about. And he hadn’t been able to forbid Dick from coming without arousing his suspicions.

“No,” Jason said, throwing Bruce’s train of thought entirely off the rails, “I mean he’s _gone_. He was dancing with someone and then he ran out when she said something to him.”

It didn’t take a master detective to work out the rest. “Do you know where he went?” Bruce asked, dread crawling up his throat like vomit.

“No,” Jason said again, scowling up a storm, frustrated and afraid. Not so different from Bruce at the moment. “I told you. The lady said something to him, I didn’t hear what, and he bolted. I lost him in the stupid crowd. Can I go out and look for him now?”

Jason alone in Gotham. It wasn’t anything Jason hadn’t done before, and Dick _had_ to be found, but still…”Not by yourself. I’ll call Alfred. He’ll find Dick.” He could hear footsteps. Not the hard click of dress shoes, but softer rubber soles. “Which exit was he heading towards?”

The footsteps slowed. An eavesdropper. Bruce turned - and saw a face from his files. Justice League files, not Gotham files. Now, with the finest of timing, Barry Allen’s nephew was here. Dressed as a waiter. More or less. Bruce did not need anything else to deal with tonight. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

Again, it didn’t take a master detective to fill in the blanks, but he wanted to see what West would say. So this was what Dick had been up to. Once Dick was found and calmed, Bruce was going to have words with him. Clearly, West knew how to find them, which meant that their civilian identities were compromised to some extent. Bruce was not happy. “I’ll ask once more,” Bruce said. “This is not a good time to lie to me. What are you doing here, Mr West?”

West’s jaw dropped. “You know -“

“I know your uncle,” Bruce said. “I’m aware of you. I asked you a question.”

Fortunately, West was not stupid. If he knew to look here, he could probably reason out that Bruce might know to look into Barry Allen’s relations. “Looking for Dick,” he said simply, instead.

“Tonight? Any special reason?” This was _not_ a good place to have this discussion. Anyone could happen along. As West himself just had.

West’s blush clashed horribly with his hair. “I just needed to ask him some questions,” he said.

A case of over-active curiosity, no doubt, spurred by who-knew-what. Yet clearly West knew Dick personally, and had for some time. While Bruce thought, behind him, Jason said, “Then you’ll have to find him first, genius.” 

Bruce turned back to glare him down. Not too much. He knew Jason was worried too. However, the rudeness was not acceptable in this setting. “As Jason says,” Bruce told West. “Dick isn’t here.”

“I heard that bit,” West said. That was a bit of a surprise. He’d got closer than Bruce had thought before Bruce had heard him. Speedsters. It never did to underestimate the distance they could cover. “Would you _like_ me to go find him?”

It didn’t look like West was joking. It wasn’t the sort of thing that his uncle would joke about, either. “Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” Bruce asked.

West shuffled his feet a little. “No,” he admitted.

“Look up high. He climbs when he’s upset. Someone will contact you to assist you in your search. Now go.”

The young speedster hesitated, not used to being given orders. Then he nodded and blurred out of sight.

“Holy crap,” Jason said, and then, “Wait, who _was_ that?”

“I’ll explain later,” Bruce said. “In private. It seems he’s a friend of Dick’s, though. Right now, I’m going to call Alfred, and you’re going to point out exactly who Dick was dancing with. I want to know what made him run.”

 

—

 

Dick sought refuge on the top of an apartment block, ignoring the rain. He didn’t like what was coming together in his head. Not one bit.

He knew that Bruce had never been able to find all of the Court. He knew that meant some of them attended Bruce’s parties. He’d never run into one before today. It made his skin crawl. She’d _touched_ him. He hadn’t known what she was until she’d spoken. If she’d wanted to do more than touch he wouldn’t have known until it was too late.

More disturbing was his suspicion that Bruce _knew_.

He might not have been at home much lately, but he should have known about this party weeks ago. He’d found out from Jason, of all people. Not Bruce. Not even Alfred. Bruce knew, or suspected, that there would be Owls at the party. And he hadn’t told Dick.

Suddenly unable to stand staying still for one more second, Dick headed to the next rooftop. He didn’t bother climbing down the fire escape. He just jumped. It had been a long time since he’d been out on the rooftops like this. A tuxedo was not the right clothing for this, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to _get away_.

He’d never been allowed to be angry. Maybe Bruce would let him; he didn’t know. He’d never dared risk it, just in case. He knew Bruce didn’t want him to lash out at other people. Dick wanted to lash out right now. He wanted to go back inside and hurt the Owl woman for hurting him. Dick was good at hurting people. He’d been taught to be good at it.

He - he wanted to hurt Bruce, too. For not telling him.

The thought made him stop in his tracks. He couldn’t want to hurt Bruce. Not really. Could he? He would have to be a very bad person to want to hurt Bruce, after all Bruce had done for him. He stayed very still and thought about it very carefully. Pictures of himself hitting Bruce flashed through his mind. Making Bruce bleed. He couldn’t seem to un-think them, no matter how they made his stomach turn.

A good person wouldn’t think like that. Dick had known for a long time that he wasn’t a good person.

There was only one solution to the bad thoughts, then. It wasn’t one Dick liked. He’d make himself feel nothing at all, like he was out stalking targets. If he just turned all his feelings off, maybe they wouldn’t be so bad when he turned them back on again. Dick took several deep breaths and tried to calm himself into that flat grey place in his mind where nothing could bother him. He couldn’t be happy like this, and he couldn’t stay like that forever, but he couldn’t be angry either.

Then he set off across the rooftops again. He wasn’t masked. He couldn’t bring himself to care. All he needed to do was keep moving and try not to feel things.

The last time he’d done this, he’d been given a target for the Court. They hadn’t let him out often. They thought he was too young. Too valuable to risk. They’d taught him how all the same, since he would need to know the rooftops.

More recently, Dick had been watching Batman. Batman worked differently. Unlike Talon, who was never supposed to be seen or leave witnesses, Batman let people see him when the time was right. He left them afraid rather than dead. It was a style Dick had never tried for himself before. He’d seen its effectiveness, but never first hand.

It was a good night to change that.

Some part of Dick was uneasy about ignoring Bruce, but mostly he was trying not to think about Bruce and what Dick hadn’t been told. It would serve Bruce right if Dick ignored his instructions not to go out.

He couldn’t do what Batman did for a variety of reasons. Tonight it was because he was stalking the rooftops in a dinner jacket. It wasn’t practical. Dick didn’t care about that either. He shucked his shoes - they were hard, the sound hard to disguise. True, it left his feet vulnerable, but better he step on broken glass than he get spotted and then shot. The only way he could do this was to be as stealthy as possible. Without a mask he couldn’t afford to be seen doing this at all.

This block was in Black Mask’s territory right now, though it had changed hands twice in recent months. Dick found a perch above a likely bar and waited. One ordinary-looking patron left, drunk and unremarkable. Another patron left. Dick made mental notes of their appearance. When he got back to the cave he could see if they really were just customers here.

A group of men wearing Black Mask’s colours came out the front door, drunk but not too drunk. Tipsy, Donna and Wally both called it. They could still work, but their inhibitions would be lowered. This group, Dick would follow. They were more dangerous. He stalked them the length of the block, bare feet stinging from the jumps he had to make. Two of the five men were laughing, but that laughter was turning cruel.

“You sure you haven’t seen your pal lately?” one asked. The group was moving strangely. One man was walking ahead, another falling behind, while two more flanked the fifth. Dick drew closer, as close as he dared before breaking concealment. “What’s his name again? Gordon?”

Realisation struck. The fifth man, the one in the centre, was a cop. His cover had been blown. These men were pumping him for information, and then they were going to kill him.

Dick had to act. Soon.

Five men wasn’t so bad. Harder when he only had the one knife and no other tools. But not impossible. He looked around for anything else he could use, and any other people who might interrupt him, and set to work.

 

—

 

Travelling through Gotham was no easier on the rooftops. The glitzy stuff wasn’t so clear up here. Mostly it was air-con, ducting, and asphalt, and even speeding across Gotham’s heights, the skyscrapers here tended to loom. It wasn’t Wally’s sort of town, and he had next to no idea where Dick could possibly be.

His phone rang. Wally stopped and checked the screen - unknown number. Wayne had said ‘someone’ would be contacting him to help find Dick, though, so he probably better answer it. “Hello?”

“Ah, Mr West,” a British-accented voice greeted him. Older man, it sounded like. “My employer has instructed me to assist you in finding the wayward Mr Grayson.”

“Uh-huh,” Wally replied, because he couldn’t think of anything else to say. It had just occurred to him that Wayne had found his cell phone number in a matter of minutes. Not impossible for someone with Justice League connections, he guessed, but still alarming. It was one thing for Wayne to recognise him, Wally knew he was in League files, but to get his phone number? That fast? Yikes.

“Now,” the mystery man Wayne had…employed…to find Dick said, “Master Dick’s trackers would indicate that he is half a mile northwest of your position.”

“Trackers?” Wally blurted. “You guys have _trackers_ on Dick? What is he, your pet?”

The only reaction from British Guy was a slight coolness in his voice as he explained, “Master Dick is a much-loved family member who, regrettably, is both a kidnap risk and has a tendency to pull vanishing acts. The trackers are only to be used in case of an emergency. Such as this. Now, Mr West. Half a mile northwest. I am aware of your running speed. The faster we find Master Dick, the better.”

Name and appearance, cell phone number, _and_ running speed. Creepy as _hell_. Had Wayne called Batman or something? (Could _anyone_ just get Batman on the phone?) “Which way’s northwest?”

British Guy directed him to a rooftop half a mile away. Wally didn’t even bother hanging up as he ran. “Where now?” he asked, when he arrived at the first landmark he’d been given.

There was a pause and a few taps of a keyboard. “Across the road to your left. Do be careful, Mr West, this is not a good part of town.”

When he got to the roof, though, there was nothing there but a pair of fancy shoes. “I think Dick might have ditched your trackers,” he reported.

“So it would seem,” British Guy said.

Wally opened his mouth to ask what _now_ , and down the road a gunshot rang out. “Hang on,” he said. “Something’s going on over there.”

“Mr West -“

Wally hung up and sped off. It was only a block. He skidded to a halt at the end of an alley where five bodies were crumpled against various walls and the trash smell was overlaid by blood and gunpowder. “What the _hell_?” Wally said. He checked - four were unconscious, one was bleeding. 

Behind him, Dick said, “What are you doing here?”

Wally hadn’t heard him approach. Dick was in a goddamned tuxedo, and he was as calm as a frozen lake. Showing all the warmth of one, too. “This guy’s been shot,” he said.

“I know,” Dick said calmly. “Is it bad?”

“He’s been shot!”

“Does he have a spinal injury? Has he seen your face?”

Wally did not like where this was going. “I don’t think so,” he said. Most of the blood looked to be coming from the guy’s shoulder. He’d heard that was super dangerous. “But no, he hasn’t seen my face.”

“Then take him to the hospital,” Dick said. “It’ll be quicker if you do it. Go back out to the main road, turn left, go along the road for three blocks, then turn right and you should be able to see it up ahead. Leave him at the ER and he’ll be taken care of. Then come back before anyone sees you.”

He looked down at the bleeding man, then up at Dick. God knew that _Wally_ didn’t know what he was doing. “Okay,” he said.

The hospital was right where Dick said it was. Hyper-conscious of the blood all down his front, Wally dashed in, dropped the guy at the front desk, and backed off. He wanted to make sure the guy was at least getting treated before he left. A minute or so later, once the screaming at the sudden appearance of a patient had stopped, the nurses were working on stopping the bleeding as well. That was Wally’s cue to get the hell out of there. Belatedly, he hoped there weren’t security cameras around.

When he got back to where he’d left Dick, not two minutes after he left, his friend was nowhere to be seen. There were just several men on the ground, tied up with their own shirts. For a second he thought he’d been fooled, that Dick had run off and vanished again, but then a low whistle came from the fire escape. Wally looked up, and there was Dick, pointing towards the roof. Wally followed, then led, passing Dick as he climbed the stairs at a normal human speed.

“What the _fuck_ was that?” Wally snapped, the instant they got to the top. “Did _you_ do all that?”

Now that Wally looked closer, Dick didn’t look quite so party-ready. His dark suit was darker with rain, a slight tear in one sleeve. His bare feet were scratched up a bit too. It was his expression that gave the impression of someone perfectly composed, that absolute frozen calm. “Not all of it,” Dick said. “I couldn’t stop the shooting. Will he be all right?”

He shrugged uneasily. “Dunno. They were treating the bleeding when I left. Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you, Dick? That guy could have died!”

Shock rippled across Dick’s face. “I was helping,” he said, the bewilderment the first real emotion Wally had seen from him so far that night. Just like that, the eerie calm was gone. “They were going to kill him, and I stopped it without killing them. What did I do wrong?”

They were standing on a rooftop in a bad part of a bad city, Wally had someone else’s blood all down his front (something that was as scary as it was disgusting), there were a bunch of tied-up would-be murderers in the alley below, all unconscious because of something Dick had done. It really was the same Dick he’d been hanging out with. The same earnestness. Behind that, hurt. Uncle Barry had said Dick was traumatised, that he’d been taken in by people who were bad news. _Now_ Wally could see Dick trying to stab people, mistaking a friendly gesture for an attack, not understanding that most people would find this shocking and horrifying. And yeah, maybe even fighting Batman and almost killing him, before he realised that Batman was a good guy.

Wally didn’t even know where to _start_ with what was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your comments/kudos/bookmarks!


	7. Important Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick and Wally try to sort things out. Bruce worries.

Dick made himself wait for Wally to answer. Making himself not feel things wasn’t working very well right now (he’d done something wrong, he didn’t know what, his heartbeat was rattling his ribs); he thought smiling to hide it might look even worse; and if he ran, what would happen to Wally? Dick didn’t even know why he was here.

“He could have _died_ ,” Wally repeated. “Most of us find that kind of distressing.”

Oh no. He’d forgotten again. It was so easy to do that. Wally wasn’t like him, or Donna, or Kori, or Garth. Or even Jason. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sure what else he could say. Then, because it was true, he added, “I’m used to it. I forget sometimes not everyone is.”

Wally looked sick. “Jesus, Dick. That’s awful. The bit where you’re used to it, not the bit where you forgot I wasn’t used to it.”

They stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds. “I can get you a new shirt,” Dick said at last. That would be the right thing to do, wouldn’t it? He’d never liked wearing bloody clothes. Surely Wally didn’t either.

“Thanks,” Wally said. “Look, I just came by to ask you a few questions…”

“I’ll answer,” Dick said immediately. It was strange to see someone else try to keep themselves calm. Usually it was Dick who did that, and it wasn’t as if he could see himself while he did. “I was going to tell you about all this anyway. Soon.”

“Yeah, okay,” Wally said. He was shifting back and forth on his feet, getting ready to run. Dick stayed where he was and tried not to look creepy (as Jason would put it). No threatening people who didn’t deserve it. Wally didn’t deserve it. He’d got that man to hospital much faster than Dick could have even performed first aid. “I just. I promise I understand this sort of thing, what with my uncle and all, but. Why didn’t you just tell me straight away?”

“Because I didn’t find you just to make friends,” Dick replied. There was nobody else up here. Nobody could hear them. “You wanted to work with your uncle. I wanted to work with Batman. There are a few more like that too.”

“Like Donna?”

“Yes. Like Donna. Now that we’re adults, we decided we wanted to make our own team. But none of us are very experienced with normal people.” Like Dick had just been reminded. “So we found you. We want to recruit you. We, none of us, thought that asking you cold was a good idea.”

Dick watched carefully for the reaction. Wally’s mouth dropped open and he blurred momentarily out of sight, but he only did a nervous lap around the rooftop rather than run off entirely. “You wanted to recruit _me_?” he asked.

“Yes,” Dick said. “We still do. If you’re willing.”

This time, the blur and the sudden movement of the air against the prevailing breeze lasted a bit longer. _Two_ laps around the rooftop. Dick hated that habit of Wally’s already. It made his hand twitch for his knife. When Wally resolved back into the visible spectrum, he was frowning. “Are you kidding? I don’t feel like I know you guys - or just you even. You’re pretty much a stranger to me right now.”

A stranger. It hurt, but it was fair enough. Dick didn’t like strangers either. “I understand,” Dick said. “I’ll leave you alone, then.” He started to retreat, slowly and carefully, so that Wally could see he wasn’t a threat.

“Whoa, hey!” Wally zipped around in front of him. “I didn’t say you should go! Maybe I don’t know you now, but that can be fixed.”

Dick felt his eyes widen. “I lied to you,” he said.

“Yeah, but, it was about important stuff. I get why people lie about important stuff. So. Let’s get me a new shirt, and then you can tell me everything you didn’t before.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?” If this much alarmed Wally (the man hadn’t even died, and Dick hadn’t done much to the attackers), he wasn’t sure how he’d react to the rest of it. He wasn’t sure Wally would still want to be friends with him afterwards. 

But if they wanted him to join their team, and Dick did want him to join their team, he would have to know. Dick couldn’t live hiding.

“Shirt first,” he said. “Then I’ll tell you.”

“Sounds good,” Wally said. “Just…call your dad before any of that, yeah?”

 

—

 

Lucky for him, Dick did call his dad. Or British Guy. Someone. He didn’t look happy about it. “I had to,” he insisted to someone. “I can’t talk about it now. Wally needs a new shirt.” After a minute or so, Dick hung up and said, “We can go back to the Manor.”

“The _Manor_?” Wally asked. He could hear the capital letter at the start. Now that he was actually supposed to be going there, and after seeing that fancy party…

“Yes,” Dick said. “It’s a long trip. Shorter than our hike.”

“I can take you,” Wally offered. “If you tell me where to go, anyway, and you don’t mind me carrying you.”

Dick didn’t look that keen, but he nodded, then pointed. “We need to go that way first.”

The trip across town was awkward. Dick was heavier than he looked - like, a lot heavier. He hadn’t given off a particularly waifish or ethereal impression in the first place. Nor did he like being carried. In terms of weight, it was like carrying a large rock; in terms of awkwardness it was like carrying a board. Best of both worlds. They had to stop every so often for Dick to point him in the right direction, too. Wherever this manor was, it was out of town.

But after a few minutes of rooftop-hopping, Wally didn’t need the pointers anymore. There was a manor on the hillside, and it could only be described as _fucking ginormous_. They only stopped for someone in the house to open the gates for them, and then bam, Wally was in a billionaire’s mansion. So that was a thing. There was a big difference between planning to drop in on his friend from class, even if he’d just learned that friend was freaking rich, and actually seeing it for himself.

Dick led him up through wide halls with polished floorboards up to what seemed to be his room, and gave him one of his shirts to replace Wally’s own bloodied one. It was a very bright blue, nothing like what he wore when he came to meet Wally, and it hung off him like a tent. Dick stepped into a room off his room to get changed out of his nice clothes; he came back wearing bright red leggings and a green tank top, under which Wally could see scars peeking out over his collarbones.

This was not the Dick that Wally hung out with in class. It was Dick, just not quite the _same_ Dick. Well, Wally had said he wanted an explanation.

“What did you want to know about me?” Dick asked. He’d sat down in one of what seemed like acres of floor in here, and it looked like it cost him something to stay still.

Wally swallowed. “Whatever you can tell me,” he said. “I know what happened to your parents, kind of, but Uncle Barry said - he said you almost killed Batman.” It was the next most unthinkable thing to killing Superman.

To his shock and horror, Dick nodded. “Yes. Before he rescued me.”

“Rescued you from _what_?”

“The Court of Owls,” Dick said. He choked a little on the words, and huddled down on himself. All of a sudden, he seemed much younger, and very small. Whatever it was, this Court of Owls had to be bad. Dick must have seen incomprehension on his face, because he added, “My…my old masters. They taught me to kill.”

Masters. As if Dick was their _slave_. Wally was sorry he asked. “How long were you there?” he asked.

“Six years,” Dick said. He looked up at Wally. “It’s okay,” he added, trying for a reassuring smile and failing dismally, by Wally’s standards anyway. “Batman rescued me. I’m not going back, I’m not a Talon anymore. I’m not going to kill people ever again.”

Wally looked at the determination on Dick’s face and said, “I believe you. God, Dick, I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“Just -“ Wally flailed for words. He didn’t really know what a Talon was, but context suggested that it was some sort of enslaved killer. “- That any of that happened to you. That’s not right.”

That smile remained fixed and eerie. Wally got the feeling, somehow, that Dick didn’t have a clue what was actually wrong about what happened to him. “It’s fine,” he said. “So, do you want to join our team?”

_Did_ he want to join their team?

Wally had copied Uncle Barry’s experiments because he wanted, so badly, to help. What his uncle did as the Flash was cool. Beyond cool. Downright awesome. Wally still wanted to be like his uncle one day, and this, well, this was as close as anyone had offered. He liked the sound of it an awful lot.

At the same time, he didn’t feel at all prepared for something like this. “I still don’t know you guys,” he said. “I know you better now, but I’ve only met Donna once. I don’t know who else is in this team.” Knowing that Dick had always planned to tell him the truth did make him feel better.

“Kori,” Dick said immediately. “A princess from Tamaran. She’s _amazing,_ she can fly, and - oh, and Garth, Aquaman’s student.”

“I still haven’t met them,” Wally reminded him. “I’d like to.”

“So you will join us?” Dick asked hopefully.

“Not yet,” Wally said. “I need time. I’m not sure I’m cut out for it right this minute, you know? Just seeing those guys back there in the alley…I’m not sure I’m ready for something like that. I know I probably saved that guy’s life, and it feels real good, but still, you know, it was scary. Just the violence part. I think I need more training too. Uncle Barry only taught me the basics. Not any, you know, fighting.”

Dick nodded thoughtfully. “That makes sense,” he said. “We train together. You can train with us too.”

“I’m just a beginner,” Wally warned him.

“Not forever,” Dick countered. “You can learn. If you want.”

They stared at each other. This was a bit more awkward than Wally had thought, and he hadn’t thought this would be a super smooth conversation. Still, he couldn’t help the little frisson of excitement in his heart. He was going to be a real superhero! In a few months’ time, yeah, when he felt readier, but he was going to do it. They weren’t even put off by the fact he was a nervous beginner. So awesome. Then, Wally smiled. “This sounds amazing,” he said.

Dick smiled back tentatively. “I’ll let you know where to go,” he said. “Are you all right to get home from here?”

“No problems.” He hesitated again, and added, “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, right? I promise I’ll have your shirt back.”

“Right,” Dick said. “See you tomorrow.”

Wally sped out, feeling far better about everything than he expected to feel after confronting a friend about their lies-by-omission. He could hardly wait to tell his uncle.

 

—

 

Dick let his smile go once Wally was gone. As happy as he was that Wally had agreed to join their team, pending more training, the thought of what he was going to have to say to Bruce…

He was still angry. He still had to work out what to do about that. He didn’t want to explain things to Bruce while he was angry.

There was a knock on the door. And Alfred came in carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of tea. “I see your friend has departed,” he commented, handing one of the mugs to Dick. “That was fast.”

Dick shrugged. “He has school tomorrow,” he said.

“And you would rather he was not here when Master Bruce returned?”

Definitely. Bruce was going to be angry at him, too. Dick had always planned to tell Wally, and he knew Bruce had mixed feelings about his socialising with people like Donna, who could be traced back to the Justice League. Bruce didn’t like people knowing about Batman. He _hated_ it when people found out without his approval. So Dick just shrugged again, and looked up at a nice picture of a night sky on his ceiling.

Alfred wasn’t done yet, though. He asked, “If you don’t mind telling me, Master Dick, what prompted your flight from the ballroom earlier?”

“Bruce didn’t tell you?” Dick asked. He kept his eyes on the photograph. It was one of his favourites. It had been taken in a desert. When he felt trapped and claustrophobic, he liked to imagine himself taking it.

“No, Master Dick.”

“There was a woman from the Court there,” Dick said. The words sounded flat and dull to his own ears. It was the only way he could get the information past his teeth. “She spoke to me.”

“Oh dear,” Alfred said.

“I think Bruce knew,” Dick added. He hadn’t warned him. It hurt. Then he realised what Alfred wasn’t saying. “You knew too, didn’t you?” A glance at Alfred’s face was all that he needed to know that he had. Why hadn’t they told him? Why hadn’t they trusted him? Did even Jason know about this? Why, why, why?

“Master Bruce…had certain strong suspicions,” Alfred said. “He did not know for an absolute certainty, though I realise this must not be comforting.”

It wasn’t. He wanted to run again, but he didn’t know where to. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked instead. “Why didn’t _he_ tell me?”

“I did not tell you because Master Bruce did not wish to tell you. It would not be fitting for him to make a decision about your care only for me to undermine it. Such behaviour would result in a lack of trust and parental authority in this house, which would not only affect you but Master Jason as well. On top of this, though I did not agree with Master Bruce’s decision, I - I saw the reasoning behind it.”

They were words. Dick didn’t care about any of it. He just wanted to know why nobody had told him. “It’s the Court,” he said at last, unsure of how to explain everything swirling around in his head. “He should have told me.”

“Master Bruce is on his way home now,” Alfred said. “I will send him to you as soon as he returns. For what it’s worth, Master Dick, I am sorry. Not telling you was a mistake, and a cruel one at that.”

Dick barely heard it. He just had one more question. He had to ask. “Am I allowed to be angry with him?” He didn’t dare look at Alfred’s face, and if he got the wrong answer he might have to go out the window and hide until he could face Bruce.

Still, not looking at Alfred didn’t change how sad he sounded when he said, “Master Dick, you’ve never needed permission to feel things. Be as angry as you feel the situation warrants.”

That was something, at least. Dick let Alfred go, and resolved to stay where he was.

 

—

 

“You’re fretting,” Jason said. He was watching Bruce carefully. Still, Bruce was struck by how far they’d come since they were last in a car alone and driving back to Wayne Manor. That time, Jason had been scared, no matter how hard he’d tried to hide it. Now he wasn’t. Or at least he was much less so. “Didn’t Alfred say that Dick’s friend found him okay?”

“He said there’d been an incident,” Bruce corrected. “Dick is uninjured. He didn’t say Dick was _fine_.”

“Who was that lady, anyway? Why did Dick run off like that? Not like he needs to be scared of some old bag like that.”

That confidence was - quite touching, actually. Bruce didn’t want to disabuse Jason of Dick’s invincibility. But he had to. “No,” Bruce said. “Dick has more to fear from people like that than he does anyone else. She was probably a member of the Court of Owls.”

Jason narrowed his eyes. They didn’t talk much about the Court at home, and so Jason knew very little. “The people who trained him first? They were at your party?”

“I was never able to round them all up,” Bruce explained. “I had to protect Dick, before anything. The police knew he’d been kidnapped and tortured, but not that he killed for them. He was in no state to testify, I had to make sure the Court couldn’t connect me to my night work…it was a mess. A lot of them I never found. Others, the GCPD couldn’t make much stick. I did my best to make sure they were too scared to show their faces in Gotham again, but…I suspect they’ve always been attending incognito.”

“That’s bullshit!” Jason protested. There was red rising in his cheeks. “How can you let Dick come, then? Isn’t it dangerous for him?”

Bruce sighed. “What’s worse, Jason? Allowing him to come to these parties, where any of his former captors there see that I care about him, or keeping him locked up but safe at the manor, excluded from my own life and business?” It wasn’t quite honest, not about this incident at least. This time, Bruce had invited suspects deliberately. This time, because of that, Bruce hadn’t wanted Dick at the party at all.

They truly were regrouping, growing bolder, to approach Dick in public. There must have been others in that crowd to make this one feel safe enough to risk it. Unfortunately, given how skittish Dick was known to be in social situations, his alarm wouldn’t be considered credible evidence of a Court member.

“It’s still bullshit,” Jason repeated stubbornly.

“I know,” Bruce said. “I know.”

The ride back was spent in a silence that was somehow belligerent on Jason’s part. Bruce couldn’t blame him. As they pulled up, Jason asked, “So what are you going to do? About his friend?”

Now _that_ was said because Jason was worried. And of course he’d seen that Bruce was angry at West. Jason noticed anger at a hundred yards, and Bruce thought he hated Willis Todd all the more more for it.

“Talk to Dick. Talk to them _both_. Nothing more.” This had to be about this _team_ idea. Bruce could see it all falling into place now. Dick had used the cover of applying for colleges to meet West. But why even meet West in the first place? That eluded him.

But he was going to find out. And before that…he owed Dick an apology.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your patience and comments/kudos/bookmarks. We're nearly at the end of this particular story, and I'm looking forward to bringing it to you!


	8. Unity of Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick sorts things out.

Dick had been expecting the second knock on his door. Bruce. Bruce was back. The bit of Dick that was Talon (always watching, everyone, taking in every bit of routine and every weakness) noticed that Bruce was back earlier than usual. “May I come in?” Bruce asked.

For a second, Dick considered saying no. He had, a few times over the years, to prove to himself that he could and to prove that Bruce really _wouldn’t_ come in if Dick said that he couldn’t. Tonight, though, he wanted answers, and he was _allowed_ to be angry. He took a deep breath, and said, “Yes.”

The door opened and Bruce entered. He hadn’t changed out of his own party clothing yet. Dick could smell the alcohol on him. He didn’t say anything.

So Dick did. If he was allowed to be angry, he was allowed to say why. He focused on his breathing to stay as calm as he could. “You knew the Court would be there,” he said flatly. “You were certain this time.” They’d both always known that there were _probably_ Court members at the parties Bruce hosted.

“Yes,” Bruce said.

“That’s why you didn’t tell me there was a party.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “Dick, I’m sorry.”

The next breath hissed between his teeth, in shock and awkwardness. Bruce, apologising to him. Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong. Nobody apologised to him. He didn’t deserve it. He got up and started pacing around the room, trying to channel the urge to run away. After all, he still had a point to prove.

But the movement only set his head spinning, pieces falling into place. Bruce had been certain that the Court would be at the party. He’d sent out the invitations. So he’d wanted the Court to attend. Which meant he was trying to find other members of the Court. Which meant - “They’re coming back. The Court is coming back.”

He saw the truth of it on Bruce’s face. “Why?” Dick asked. “Why didn’t you _tell_ me? Did you think I couldn’t handle it?”

Bruce didn’t think he could handle being a hero. Bruce didn’t think he could handle the Court. Bruce didn’t trust him. Alfred had said he’d found Bruce’s reasoning convincing. It made sense. Dick was a second away from going out the window and running somewhere, anywhere, when Bruce said, “That’s not why.”

The Court was coming back and Bruce didn’t trust him. “Then _why_?”

For a long minute Bruce didn’t answer. Dick felt hollow. Sick. He’d been so close - was this why Bruce didn’t want him making his own team? Why Bruce didn’t want him trying to be a hero?

Bruce said, “I wasn’t sure they were coming back until tonight. I didn’t want you to be scared of them.”

“I am _always_ scared of the Court,” Dick said. He kept pacing. “They don’t own me,” he added, defiantly as he dared. “They don’t get to make me do anything anymore. I’d die first.” Not that the Court would give him a choice about that, if they got their hands on him again. They would kill him _and_ make him do things. Bad things. That was why he was scared of them.

“Always?” Bruce asked. His voice sounded funny. A bit wobbly. “I - I see.”

Dick kept pacing. The Court was coming back. Bruce hadn’t told him. “I am angry with you,” he said. Just saying it - he wasn’t sure whether he felt sick with fear or with relief, on top of the anger. Maybe both. He waited for Bruce’s reaction, ready to run if he had to.

But Bruce simply nodded. “That’s fair,” he said. “I should have told you. I’m sorry that I didn’t. I’m sorry that I hurt you. It wasn’t my intention, if that matters.”

“It’s the _Court_ ,” Dick hissed. Bruce had said sorry, and yet he was still angry. He didn’t even like being angry. He didn’t want to be angry, especially not at Bruce. “I want to know these things. I can’t stop them if I don’t know.”

“I’m sorry,” Bruce repeated. “I’ll know better next time.”

More pacing. It was helping, a little. “I want to know everything you know about this,” he said. “No more hiding.”

“A reasonable request.” Bruce was agreeing to everything. This was strange. “I’ve already sent what notes I have to your computer downstairs. There’s not much.”

“I’ll add anything I can,” Dick said. He started for the door. He wanted to see this _now_. Bruce fell in beside him as he went, wordless. Dick didn’t say anything either. He was angry. Even if he was angry, though, he did not want to say angry things. He didn’t need to, he thought. Bruce seemed to have the idea about why Dick was upset. Just being angry and being able to say so was good enough. “Do you know who it was? At the party?”

“Janice Williamson. Her husband was jailed for diverting company funds to the Court.”

“A tax crime?” More anger, a hard little knot inside, the urge to hurt someone for this. It wasn’t fair.

“It was all the prosecutor could make stick.”

Dick didn’t know what to say to that. It was just so - wrong.

They got to the cave in silence. Dick was maybe a little less angry at Bruce now. More angry at the Court. It was better than being scared, he thought. A little. Bruce stood back as Dick went to his computer and slowly read what he’d been sent. “There’s not much,” he said, when he was done.

“Not yet,” Bruce said. “There’ll be more.” More. The Court was coming back. They were really coming back. “It’ll take a few years for them to rebuild the infrastructure to make Talons again.”

It was meant to be comforting. “But they will try,” Dick said. He knew it. He’d always known they’d come for him again. They thought he belonged to them.

“We’ll be ready for them,” Bruce said. “I am not going to let them take you.”

Dick nodded. He believed Bruce would do what he could. It _was_ harder to be angry with Bruce when he believed something like that. He was still angry. But less angry again.

Then Bruce said, “I just need to ask you about Wallace West.”

 

—

 

Just when Dick had calmed down, or started to calm down, Bruce managed to get his back up again, and put more wariness in his eyes. It was a shame. He hated to do it, especially since Dick had a right to be angry with him. Security was security, though - West had known how to find Dick.

“Wally’s joining our team,” Dick said. He was getting ready to run again, in case Bruce got angry at him. So much like Jason, and for much the same reason. “We recruited him.”

So it was something like that. He should have known better than to assume Dick would simply _give up_ on something he wanted. He’d been in such a rush to believe that Dick really did want to go to college that he’d fooled himself. Bruce waited a few seconds, making sure his voice was even and controlled before he asked, “Did you tell him our identities?”

But Dick shook his head. “I was going to, but he found out first. The Flash told him.”

In that case, Bruce would be having a few words with Barry Allen. His identity, and Dick’s, weren’t to be spread around so casually. Next issue. “You said you recruited West.”

“Yes. We did.”

“Why?”

Dick’s face was carefully neutral as he said, “You said we didn’t know normal life. So we found someone more normal.” He didn’t stop there, though. Dick went on to outline a thorough, thoughtful plan for each of his friends to learn more about the human world, so that they didn’t need to rely on West’s expertise alone. Garth was volunteering with an environmental group (to Bruce’s surprise, reforesting rather than anything to do with the ocean , which must have been a conscious choice). Donna had joined a sporting club. Koriand’r had found a _job_ , modelling. And Dick - Dick really was planning to attend college, part-time. Accounting, just like he’d said.

“I didn’t lie about that,” Dick said. It wasn’t hard to hear the rebuke there.

And after Dick explained how he’d planned to compensate for the lack of normal human experience in his team, he went on to explain how they’d been trying to find facilities and funding as well (their first choice was to ask the League for support, admittedly, framed in terms of future investment) and were researching a base of operations. The plan was detailed. Comprehensive. There were contingencies.

He listened in silence, and at the end of the outline, Dick said, “We thought about it, Bruce. We want to do this. We are _going_ to do this no matter what you say.” He looked up at Bruce, imploring. “I want you to let me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bruce said.

Dick nodded and left. His face was once again a carefully neutral mask. He thought Bruce would say no. It was plain as day.

The entire speech - it must have been hard for him to say. Open defiance was not something that came easily to Dick. He did it, when he thought he had to, but it wasn’t easy for him. Also hard for him was asking for the things he wanted. The Court had denied Dick everything. They’d hurt him when he’d defied him, they’d kept him away from the things he wanted to do.

Bruce couldn’t do the same. Not in good conscience. Not when Dick - it had to be said - knew what he was talking about. He had a good plan now. Much better than the first one. More than that, he’d shown that he could control his temper and deal with a problem. That hadn’t been Bruce’s intention when he refused. Dick had still shown his mettle.

It wasn’t a perfect plan. Bruce still wasn’t happy about it. There were still…deficits.

The next afternoon, he tried to find Dick and speak to him more, but Alfred informed him that Dick had gone to visit West again. Something about the return of a shirt Dick had lent him. So Bruce waited. And waited. It was after dinner before Dick got home. “We need to talk,” Bruce said, as soon as he came in, and Jason was out of the room. He didn’t want to have this conversation in front of the younger boy.

“About?” Dick asked.

“This team of yours.”

He saw just a flicker of hope in Dick’s eyes. “All right,” Dick said.

Back in the cave, Bruce said, “I’m still not happy with your plan.” Before Dick’s face fell again, he added, “As it is. There are some…improvements…I think you should make.”

“Like?” Dick asked.

“I would prefer you to start by working with me for a few months, at least,” Bruce said. If he couldn’t stop Dick from doing what he was planning, he could at least make sure Dick would be better at it. The better he was, the less likely the Court would succeed in reclaiming him.

The smile he got for that - would Dick have smiled like that all the time, had the Court never taken him? It hurt to wonder. “I can do that,” Dick said. “We weren’t going to start for a few months anyway, since Wally needs more training too.”

“You should encourage your friends to make similar arrangements,” Bruce said. Now the problem was going to be stopping Jason from trying to become a vigilante as well.

“Garth and Donna are both asking today,” Dick said. “I let them know Wally’s plans and the delay. I’ll help Kori work something out.”

Bruce was impressed. If Dick kept this up, he’d make a fine leader. He’d clearly already outstripped Bruce himself, in sheer deft management of other people, in spite of his many social difficulties. Bruce had been wrong to say no to this team idea, he knew that. But there was pain in the pride he felt, too. Dick was - Dick was growing up. Grown up. Sooner or later he was going to leave. Bruce didn’t know how he felt about that. 

He’d have no choice but to find out. He couldn’t keep Dick here against his will. He couldn’t be like the Court to Dick. Of all things, he couldn’t be like that.

“Have you picked a name?” Bruce asked. “An alternate identity?”

Dick smiled again. There was a bit more of an edge to it this time, a satisfied one, like a cat with a bowl of cream. “Nightwing,” he said.

Bird imagery - surprising, at first blush. But the name sparked something in his memory. “The Kryptonian legend?” Bruce asked. If he didn’t have suspicions before, he knew for sure now. Clark was in on this. “Did Superman approve?”

“I asked him if he minded,” Dick said unrepentantly. “He said no. I like it.”

Nightwing. The Kryptonian symbol of rebirth. Anyone who knew both the legend and Dick’s history would know what the combination meant. “You and Alfred will need to design armour. We’ll work out a patrol route while that gets made, and you’ll come out with me once your…Nightwing…outfit is done.” He looked Dick up and down. He’d never seen Dick so happy. Ever. “The name suits you,” he said.

He should have done this earlier.

 

—

 

“He’ll come,” Dick said. “He might be a bit lost, but he said he’d come.”

“Good,” Kori said. “You’ve spoken of him so often in the past few weeks. I look forward to meeting him.”

They were standing on the rooftop of their provisional headquarters, a squat old office block the Justice League had bought, intending to use it as a base, but they’d decided against it at some point and then never sold it on. It was a bit run down, but Dick had talked John Stewart into using his Lantern ring into checking the structure for asbestos and other hazards, and the worst thing inside had turned out to be spiders. They were planning the security upgrades already.

At the moment, though, Donna had said he wasn’t supposed to come down to ground level until Wally got there, because she was planning something. Kori was keeping him company, which he knew meant that Kori was keeping an eye on him to make sure he didn’t sneak back downstairs.

“I’m sorry we can’t start the team up properly as soon as we wanted,” Dick said. “I know you want to do a bit more active stuff.” They had that in common. Neither of them liked sitting around. Neither of them liked staying inside.

Kori shook her head, her pretty hair streaming in the breeze that always blew between buildings this high up. “We have time,” she said. “We are working for it. That is what matters.” She turned to him. “You told Batman the name you chose?”

“I did. Nightwing.”

“A good name,” she said, approvingly. Dick felt his cheeks heat up a bit. “It will remind people of Batman, without _being_ Batman. It does both him and you honour. And it is a good name for a man who can fly.”

He blushed more. She was teasing him. “It’s not really flying -“ he broke off when he saw the blur in the road below. “Wally’s here.”

He jumped off the roof, free-falling most of the way before catching on to a fire escape and flipping around it to help bleed off momentum before he landed. Kori followed him down, actually flying. “I do not see him,” Kori said.

“Wait a second,” Dick said, watching the road ahead of them carefully. “Now. Wally!”

The blur screeched and coalesced into Wally’s lanky form. “Dick! And - you must be Kori?”

“I am,” Kori said. “Koriand’r of Tameran. A pleasure to make your acquaintance. Dick has told me - told us all - so much about you.”

Wally raised his eyebrows. “Well, I’m at a bit of a disadvantage -“

“Which is why you’re here,” Dick broke in. “We’re fixing that. Donna has something planned.”

“More hiking?” Wally asked.

Dick hit the keypad to let them into the building by the main doors. (Anyone could still get in by the rooftop only by breaking a lock. They really needed to make that more secure.) He knew Wally would have no problems remembering the combination. “No,” he said, leading Wally through to where Garth and Donna were. “I suggested it, but Donna said no, and she’s in charge -“

“As if,” Donna said. “This was your idea, you did most of the organising, you’re in charge. Except for today. Today we’re picking on you.” Then, “Hey, Wally. Good to see you again.”

“Sure,” Wally said. “How’re we picking on Dick today?”

Garth raised a hand to gesture to the wall, where a hoop had been fixed over the large open lobby. “Basketball,” he said grandly. “Donna tells us that you know how to play, and she’s taught me and Kori the rules…but Dick doesn’t know them.”

A glance behind him revealed that Kori was smiling too, and Wally looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You’re all very mean,” he said.

“You can’t be good at everything all the time,” Donna said. “Today we get to know Wally and do a bit of team-building by kicking your ass at a game we deliberately aren’t going to tell you the rules for. What do you think, Wally?”

“Sounds good to me,” Wally said. “Any house rules?”

None of them knew what house rules were, but they got that sorted soon enough. That was exactly the sort of thing they wanted Wally on the team for. “House rule,” Donna said, “All powers are fair game.”

Dick looked around. They all had powers except him. He had bolas. He smiled. “You’re on, then.”

A blur zipped around him. “Ah, don’t worry, Dick. I’ve got your back. Two on three.”

It ended up being everyone for themselves, and Dick didn’t think he’d learned much about basketball (“more like basket _brawl_ ,” Wally said, before Garth tripped him in retaliation for the pun). But he did have fun. He even got the ball through the hoop a few times. It was Kori who won, because she could fly.

“What do you think?” Dick asked, as they were packing up and preparing to go their separate ways for the time being.

“I had fun,” Wally said. “I don’t think it’ll be that fun all the time, but I liked everyone.”

“We’ll be training properly next week,” Dick warned him.

Right away, Wally said, “I’m in. This is going to be awesome, Dick, I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

For a second, with all his friends in sight, still high on the endorphin rush from the game, the Court coming back felt far away and like it was someone else who had to worry. For a second, Dick had a good feeling about this too. He’d hold on to that, he decided. He was free to enjoy it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's it for part two. Thanks everyone for reading, and especially thanks for your comments, kudos, and bookmarks.
> 
> Part three will be written later in the year...featuring Tim, Barbara, and the renewal of the Court of Owls.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everyone for your patience while I got this written. And for your comments/kudos/bookmarks!


End file.
